


Not All Who Wander are Lost

by searchingwardrobes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Cursed Killian, Elves, F/M, Future Fic, Killian's ears, Middle Earth - sort of, Sleeping Curse, Tolkien mythology kind of, engaged Emma and Killian, killian's mother, true loves kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-11 14:49:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8989135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingwardrobes/pseuds/searchingwardrobes
Summary: Peace descends on Storybrooke until people begin to report sightings of an ethereal, ghost-like woman. Shortly after, Emma and Killian both fall under a strange sleeping curse unlike anything Regina has ever seen. When Snow and Belle track the mystery woman into the woods, they make a shocking discovery about what - and who - she is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Since I'm working on my massive modern AU "God Bless the Broken Road," not to mention my two series "Traveling the Realms" and "Shopping with the Captain," I'm not sure why I thought it was a good idea to start a new multi-chapter. But this idea just wouldn't leave me alone. This is what happens when you think too much about Colin's ears. :)

When Killian Jones walks into the mayor’s office, he isn’t by any means expecting her to be thrilled to see him. But irritated at his presence? That he thought they had gotten past.

              “I’m sorry, Killian,” Regina apologizes with a wave of her hand. The fact that she calls him Killian and not some ridiculous pirate moniker means she truly is sorry. “I was hoping you would be Emma with a lead on this mystery woman.”

              Once Regina was re-joined with her other half, and Belle had sent Rumplestiltskin packing for good, calm had settled over the town. Until a few days ago when reports began to pour in of an ethereal, ghost-like woman appearing in various places around town. No one had been able to give a clear description of her, as she seemed to appear out of nowhere and then disappear just as quickly.

              “Emma and David are thoroughly searching for her, I assure you.”

              “I know,” Regina sighs, primly pushing her hair back from her face as she takes a seat at her desk. She folds her hands on its surface and turns toward Killian. “So, if this isn’t about the mystery woman, what _is_ this about?”

              Killian hesitates, scratching behind his ear. It had been Emma’s idea to talk to Regina, but now that he’s here he isn’t sure how to put things. “Uh, well, Emma said you may be able to help me. You see, now that Emma has agreed to become my bride, I find myself . . . dissatisfied with my life.”

              Regina arches an eyebrow, “Fearing the old ball and chain, pirate?”

              “No, no, nothing like that,” Killian quickly clarifies, taking a seat across from Regina’s desk. “I just . . . Emma says things aren’t the same in this realm, but I was always taught that a man should provide for his family. That he should put in a hard day’s work to be worthy of his home and loved ones.”

              “And piracy isn’t really a profession,” Regina supplies.

              Killian chuckles. “Aye, nor is it practical in this realm. Not to mention me crew have all settled themselves in Storybrooke with families of their own.”

              “Yes,” Regina says sardonically, “who would have guessed Smee would do such a good job taking over _Any Given Sundae.”_

They both share a laugh over that, and Regina leans over and retrieves something from the top drawer of her desk. It is a key which she slides across the desk to Killian.

              “Emma was right,” she says, “I can help you out. You were supposed to be a part of the curse, if you recall. When it swept us all away, I had no idea you had double crossed me. Just like everyone else, there was a life and a job waiting for you here.” She gestures to the key Killian holds in his hand.

              He eyes the key then looks back at Regina. “And why would I want a job that was supposed to be a curse?”

              “Because everyone’s identities here mirrored their personalities in some way. Yes, everyone was stuck in a mundane, meaningless existence, but their jobs still catered to their strengths. I needed the town to function smoothly, after all.”

              “So what is this a key to?”

              Regina smiles. “Your office.”

                            **********************************************************

              Killian heads down to the docks after speaking with Regina and finds the office she spoke of, nestled along the marina between the dry dock and the cannery. It is made of weathered clap board with a tin roof, and the square window in the door is covered in such a thick layer of sea salt and dust, the wording can’t be read. Killian pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and rubs at the crust covering the glass. He gasps when he sees the lettering. _Killian Jones, Harbormaster_ So he really did have a life built into the curse. He inserts the key and enters the small building, the inside covered with just as much dust as the door. He flips on the light and is shocked to see more evidence of the life his cursed self would have lived: a desk with a name plate that reads “Killian Jones,” a badge inside of a drawer with his name on it, and even a photograph of himself and Liam in the navy. Only it is the British navy of this realm, not the royal navy of the enchanted forest. A lump forms in his throat as he studies the photograph, faded and curled at the edges. In it, he is smiling, his arm flung around Liam’s shoulder. It is odd to think the picture isn’t even real. The photograph is pinned to a bulletin board that is filled with maps, charts, and public safety notices.

              Killian takes his handkerchief and wipes the dust off his desk and the chair in front of it. He sits and opens each drawer in turn, pulling out two fat notebooks. One reads “Storybrooke Harbormaster: Employee Handbook.” The other reads “Storybrooke Harbor: Rules and Regulations.” He sighs deeply, feeling as if he’s a boy of 17 again, just joining the royal navy and having so much to learn.

              “I can’t believe it,” a familiar and welcomed voice proclaims from the doorway. Emma is standing there in shock, her fingers tracing the lettering that spells his name in the frosted glass.

              “That’s the least of it,” Killian tells her, eagerly tossing aside his dry reading material. Her pulls her by the hand inside and shows her the rest of the office, ending with the photograph pinned to the bulletin board.

              “Unbelievable,” Emma breathes, gazing closely at the fresh-faced version of himself in the picture. She glances sideways at him with that teasing grin of hers. “Fresh-shaven and in that crisp, blue uniform.”

              Killian scoffs, “I look like a git.”

              Emma chuckles at that. “I like it better than a ponytail,” she teases, and he really wishes he hadn’t shared that bit of information.

              “Did you and your father have any luck?”

              Emma sighs, “Yes and no. We did find her in the woods, but just like everyone has said she disappeared into thin air before we could talk to her. I got a good look at her though. She actually looked at me like she knew me. Even smiled. She was pretty. Long, straight auburn hair. Green eyes. I got close enough I could even see a dusting of freckles across her nose.”

              Killian freezes, his hand pausing over the box he had just opened. “What did you say she looked like?”

              Emma turns and gives him a suspicious look, “Auburn hair, green eyes, and freckles. Why?”

              Killian clears his throat nervously, “Any, uh, other . . . distinguishing features?”

              Emma crosses her arms and stares hard at him, “None that I could see. Like I said, she vanished when I tried to talk to her. You know, you sound suspiciously the way you did about Ursula. Do you know something about this woman?”

              Killian gives her that smile he uses when he’s hiding something. “Why would you think that, Swan?”

              Emma steps forward and places a comforting hand on his arm, “Killian, I know you’re lying to me. But just like with Ursula, I won’t press it. I trust you.”

              His false smile slips into his tender, natural one. He places a kiss to Emma’s temple and pulls her close, “Thank you, my love. Your description simply sounded familiar, that’s all. But that doesn’t mean it’s the person I’m thinking of. It’s not something I like to talk about, but one day, I assure you, you’ll hear the entire tale.”

              When Emma pulls back, she smiles up at him before changing the subject. “So, harbormaster, huh? Are you going to take the job?”

              “I’d like to, if that’s alright with you.”

              “Why wouldn’t it be?”

              “Well, Regina said I would sometimes be working closely with you and your father. I don’t want things to be awkward.”

              “Killian, you practically work with us already,” Emma argues, “Besides, I think this will be good for you. It will give you that purpose you’ve said has been missing, and you’ll be close to the sea you love so much.”

              Killian grins at her and gives a firm nod, “Good. It’s settled then.”

              For the next half hour, Emma helps Killian tidy the place up and organize things. As she flips through the files in the filing cabinet, all dating back to 1986, she muses aloud, “Do you ever wonder what it would have been like to have come here with the curse?”

              Killian shrugs as he sorts through a cardboard box, “No, not really.”

              Emma stops flipping through the files to turn to look at Killian, “I would have met you sooner. Your cursed self, anyway.”

              Killian looks up at her with a sparkle in his eyes, “That would have been a bit different from a dagger to my throat.”

              Emma saunters closer to him and says teasingly, “I wonder what I would have thought of Killian Jones, harbormaster.”

              “About as little as you thought of the blacksmith, most likely,” he says with a wry laugh. He pauses for a moment then turns to her with complete sincerity, “Though I can’t say what you would have thought of me or what my cursed self would have been like, I do know one thing with absolute certainty.”

              “Oh,” Emma asks with a teasing smile, “what’s that?”               “I would have fallen in love with you.”

              Emma blushes and feels overwhelmed as she always does when Killian so easily confesses the depth of his love for her. “Absolute certainty, huh?”

              “Of course, Swan. After all whether it’s a blonde bar wench in a tavern, a feisty woman who can call me out on my lies, or a veritable angel in lavender knocking right into me, you’ve always managed to capture my heart.”

              “Please, Killian, you told me you didn’t remember that damn bar wench you kissed. And it wasn’t exactly love at first sight when I tied you to a tree.”

              Killian arches an eyebrow, “First of all,” he said raising one finger, “I may have fudged the true a bit about the bar wench. I remembered, but the rum combined with being knocked unconscious made it difficult for me to find her again. Second, do you not remember what I told you at the bottom of the bean stalk?”

              “That you would despair if I took my eyes off you for a second?”

              “No, love. I said I was hoping it would be you. And I meant it. You fascinated me from the start.”

              Emma slips her arms around Killian’s waist and tips her face towards his, “So it’s settled. We would have gotten together sooner if you had been here under the curse.”

              Killian’s smile falls a bit, “Perhaps.” He steps out of the circle of her arms and continues sorting through the box.

              “Perhaps?” Emma puts her hands on her hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

              “Well,” Killian replies, eyes still fixed on his task, “you had your sheriff fellow. And let’s be honest, it took several twists and turns of fate to lead you to me. If things had been different, if you had a choice, maybe it wouldn’t have been me. Let’s face it, I’ve heard the whispers in town.”

              Emma marches right up to Killian’s side. “What whispers?”

              Killian still avoids her gaze. “You know, the ones that say you ended up with me by default.”

              “Hey,” Emma says softly, turning her to face him. She cups his face in her hands and forces him to look at her, “I did choose you. In the underworld, remember? That was the test, and we passed. Besides, did I march down to the underworld for just anyone?’

              Killian smiles bashfully, his eyes hooded beneath his lashes. She shakes him slightly by the shoulders, “Well, did I?”

              “No, Swan, I suppose you didn’t.”

              “I love you, Killian. No more of this self-loathing, do you hear me? I choose you, and I’ll keep right on choosing you.”

              She pulls him down to her lips for a thorough kiss, which he returns with equal fervor. Yet he can’t help the doubts that swirl inside him. Emma wore Sheriff Graham’s boot lace on her wrist right up until the night of their first date. If she had met Killian then, with Graham right there as competition, would she have given him a second look? And if Neal had lived, would the flame of her former love have been reignited? And even Walsh. She admitted she had considered his proposal. If the man hadn’t turned out to be a flying monkey, would things have been different? Killian presses kisses across Emma’s jawline and nuzzles into her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair. Gods above, he doesn’t doubt her love, and he surely is thankful to have her in his arms and his ring on her finger. But he would be a foolish man indeed to believe for one minute he actually deserved her love. It’s a gift he’ll never stop being in wonder of.

              Killian suddenly sees a flash of auburn hair outside the dirty window, and he quickly pulls away from Emma to dash for the door. He whips around just in time to see a figure practically float around the corner, one of pale skin and ginger hair.

              “Killian?” Emma asks as she follows him outside.

              “It’s her,” Killian explains, racing around the corner.

              Emma follows on his heels, and every time they turn a corner or reach the end of a street, all they can catch is a glimpse of the woman. When they reach the forest tree line, Killian doesn’t hesitate plunging into the woods after the woman. Emma grabs him by the arm.

              “Let’s get my father to meet us, Killian, this could be a trap.”

              Killian shakes his head and plunges ahead, “No, she wouldn’t do that.”

              Emma chases after him, “How do you know that? Who is she, Killian?”

              “I can’t answer right now, Emma, there’s too much to explain.”

              Killian suddenly stops so fast, Emma nearly collides into his back. The woman has stopped, her hand resting gracefully on the trunk of a tree. She is staring at Killian, and when his eyes meet hers, she smiles, then seems to vanish behind the tree. Emma watches Killian’s face and can see he is visibly shaken by the woman’s gaze and her smile. Killian shakes his head and plunges ahead. _It’s her_ , he thinks to himself, _it’s really her. I haven’t seen her since before Regina cast the curse. Why now?_

Emma stumbles behind him, and Killian turns to catch her. He suddenly notices a mist swirling around their ankles and hears a whispered lullaby on the breeze. Emma sways, and her head lolls. “Such a pretty song,” she murmurs.

              Killian tugs on her arm and wraps his hooked arm around her waist, “Don’t stop Emma. We have to get out of this mist.”

              “Please don’t make me, Killian,” Emma pleads with a shake of her head. “I can’t go on. I need to rest.”

              “No, Emma, you can’t. It’s not safe. I know what this is.”

              But the mist and the song have affected him, too, and Killian can’t stop Emma from curling up on the forest floor. He sways as well, and as he drops to his knees, he sees a figure moving towards him. It’s shrouded in mist and bright, white light, but he knows who it is. She practically floats towards him, her auburn hair billowing around her, and her green eyes shining bright. She is singing in a foreign tongue, but it’s one Killian is familiar with. He knows the song. Has known it all his life. The woman leans over him as he curls up beside Emma. Those green eyes above a freckled nose are the last thing he sees as he drifts off to sleep, Emma’s hand still in his.


	2. Chapter 2

              Snow bends to examine the forest floor at her feet. Tracking the person who has put her daughter and future son-in-law under a sleeping curse is not going to be an easy task. All those who have seen her claim that she seems to float rather than walk, and even David admitted she seemed to appear and disappear. If she truly is a ghost or some sort of wraith, it is unlikely she will leave evidence like broken leaves or bent shrubbery in her wake.

              “Well,” Snow says over her shoulder to Belle, “this is definitely where Emma and Killian fell.”

              Belle looks up from the GPS on her phone, “It matches the coordinates David gave us.”

The brunette twists her light backpack around, pulls out a slim book, and begins flipping through it. Snow smiles and gives a slight shake of her head as she watches the librarian. Belle isn’t exactly a person that jumps to mind when Snow thinks “tracker,” but the woman _is_ a vast source of knowledge. She’s also brave, resilient, tenacious, and, most of all, both forgiving and loyal. The last two traits may have made her vulnerable to the dark one, but they also make her a fierce friend to one Killian Jones. Snow doesn’t think she could have stopped her from coming along if she had tried. At least Belle is wearing jeans and sensible shoes for once.

Belle finds the page she is looking for, scans it with her finger, and then relays the information therein, “I find it hard to believe this woman is a ghost. There are several more realistic possibilities. A wood nymph, a dryad . . . perhaps a sprite?”

Snow gives a wry laugh. “Only in Storybrooke are those more realistic than a ghost.”

Snow begins to move slowly around the area where her husband found their daughter and her fiancé. Snow is hoping fervently for some evidence of a trail. As her eyes scan the roots, leaves, and dirt at her feet, she wills herself not to think about one terrifying fact: if both Emma and Killian are under a sleeping curse, neither of them can wake the other with true loves’ kiss. If it’s even that type of curse. Regina was completely baffled when she examined them, as was Zelena. Snow had feared David would punch his fist through the nearest wall when he discovered that no one could help. Snow understood how he felt which was exactly why she had strapped on her bow and arrows and headed for the woods.

Snow stills suddenly at the sound of a dove breaking free from a nearby thicket and fluttering into the air. In one fluid motion, she stands, pulls an arrow free, spins, and shoots. The figure suddenly standing several yards away doesn’t attempt to flee or dodge the arrow. Instead, she calmly raises a hand and catches the arrow seconds before it can be imbedded in her shoulder.

In shock, Snow lowers her bow and takes the woman in. Belle was right, she definitely isn’t a ghost. She wears a flowing, chestnut gown with a belt of gold hung low at the waist. Over the gown she wears a velvet, hunter green cloak with a hood covering her hair and shadowing her features.

“Who are you?” Belle calls out to her.

Snow can’t help blurting out her own question in anger and fear, “What did you do to my daughter and her fiancé?”

The woman regards them silently without answering. She drops Snow’s arrow then lifts her hands to pull back her hood. Snow and Belle move cautiously forward.

“We mean you no harm,” Snow calls, “we just need answers.”

They are close enough now that Snow can make out the same features David has relayed to her: long auburn hair and green eyes. She can’t yet make out the freckles, but the woman is fair. As Snow and Belle get closer, the woman turns slowly towards the stand of trees to her right. When she does, Snow sees that her hair is tucked behind her ears. Her noticeably pointed ears.

“You’re an elf!” Belle calls out. Her voice sounds mainly surprised, but Snow detects the slightest hint of excitement.

The woman – the elf – pauses at Belle’s words. She turns to the other two women with a slightly mischievous smile that hints of humor. It is lopsided, charming even, but almost . . . a smirk.

“Yes, I am an elf.”

Snow risks stepping closer, “ _Who_ exactly are you? Why are you doing this?”

“My name is Tauriel,” she says, “and trust me when I say that I mean your daughter and her true love no harm.”

Snow blinks her eyes as the woman before her suddenly seems to become transparent and shrouded in mist. A shimmery light seems to grow around her as she steps amongst the trees. Snow and Belle share a surprised look before chasing after her, but when they round the largest tree, she is gone.

“Is it just me,” asks Snow, “or did something about her seem oddly familiar?”

“No, it wasn’t just you, Snow. I’d know that smile anywhere.”

              *********************************************************

The next afternoon Belle has her nose buried into a volume called _Elves, Orcs, and Hobbits: Creatures of Middle Earth_. She jumps when a heavy backpack is unceremoniously flung onto the table next to her. She looks up to find Henry scowling, arms crossed, looking remarkably like his mother.

“I want to help,” he says, “I have to do something besides visit my comatose parents, or I’ll go crazy.”

Belle almost remarks on Henry’s use of the word “parents,” but decides against it. She doubts Henry even realizes what he said. Belle pushes a stray hair off her forehead and smiles, “Of course you can help, Henry. I’ve gotten so accustomed to Killian’s help, I’m a bit overwhelmed.”

Henry smiles back and takes a seat, pulling the nearest book towards him. He scans the cover and looks up at her with a smile, “Tolkien? Since when are the stories from the Land Without Magic accurate?”               “I know, but in this case, these books are proving far more helpful than the ones from the Enchanted Forest. There’s little from back home about elves; they were rarely seen. As for the other legends about elves, none of them really match the person Snow and I met in the woods. Except for Tolkien’s elves.”

“Hmmm,” Henry says, tapping his lips thoughtfully, “that’s interesting. Have you ever wondered how the Land Without Magic came to have their own versions of all these stories? And the author and his pen – how many have there been? Is there only one at a time?”

“Or maybe there’s been an author and _her_ pen,” Belle teases him.

“Could be, grandma,” he concedes with a smile. The grandma title isn’t teasing. Henry still slips and uses it quite often.               “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me grandma?”

Henry looks at her with complete innocence. “Why not? Gideon’s my uncle isn’t he? And Snow doesn’t mind me calling her grandma. You’re the same age.”

Belle can’t really argue those points. A cry pierces the quiet of the library. “Speaking of your uncle,” Belle says with a smile as she scoops the baby up out of his cradle, “someone is up from his nap.” Belle smiles down at her son as she bounces him in her arms. Like the good-natured baby that he is, just seeing his mother’s face causes him to smile and cease his crying. Belle is grateful every single day for having this: Gideon’s childhood. The day her grown son had entered her ex-husband’s shop in a dark hood, she thought she had lost him forever before even getting a chance to raise him. But now here they are, and her son has a second chance to grow into a good man.

“Grandma!” Henry exclaims, pointing to the cradle, “What’s that?”

Belle looks down to see a square piece of paper in her son’s cradle. She picks it up and reads the elegant script: _Come to the same spot in the forest where I saw you yesterday. Bring only the lad with the pen. – Tauriel_

“Henry,” Belle says as she raises her eyes from the note in her hands, “could you get Violet over here to babysit? You and I have some questions we need answered.”

              *********************************************************

Henry glances up at the sky nervously, then scans the edge of the clearing he and Belle are standing in. “It will be dark soon. Are you sure this Tauriel person will actually show?”

“She better,” Belle mutters, but as soon as the words are out of her mouth, the elf has appeared near the same stand of trees as yesterday. This time, Belle doesn’t hesitate to walk right up to the woman, Henry hurrying to catch up. Now that she’s closer, Belle really takes in the woman’s face. Her coloring may be different, but the arch of the brows, the shape of the nose, and of course that smile . . . “You’re Killian’s mother, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Tauriel answers calmly, a slight twinkle of pride in her eyes, “I am.”

“Well, that explains the ears,” Henry mutters, actually causing the elf to make a sound almost like a laugh. It’s a sound that Belle can’t quite describe; similar to the twittering of a small bird, but earthier and almost breathy. “Does that mean my da- my stepdad - is immortal?”

“No,” Tauriel explains with a shake of her head, “he is only half elf. A dunedain. Blessed with unnaturally long life, but still mortal.”

“You mean he didn’t need Neverland and curses to stay young?” Henry asks.

Tauriel makes that same indescribable sound that must be an elvish laugh, “Well, not even dunedain are supposed to live _that_ long.”

“So his older brother Liam was half-elf too?” Henry asks.

“Killian is my only child. Liam’s mother died in childbirth.”

“Then why did you leave your son all alone?” Belle asks, anger rising up in her. Anger for her friend who has suffered so much and anger that comes from the tender heart of a mother’s love.

“Surely in your studies you have learned the answer,” Tauriel replies softly, lowering her eyes to study her clasped hands.

Understanding dawns on Belle’s face, “Elves are immortal,” she begins as if reciting from a book, “but can be killed in battle, or –“

“Or they can waste away from a broken heart,” Tauriel finishes for her. “Elvish hearts are always steadfast and true. Never fickle, like human hearts. Not fickle like the heart of Brennan Jones,” Tauriel trails off, as if momentarily distracted by her memories. She comes back to herself and continues, “My heart broke, thus condemning me to wander the realms, neither living nor dead. For the rest of eternity.”

Belle and Henry are speechless at the tragic tale, so Tauriel adds, “My son may be only half elf, but his heart is elvish through and through. Surely you both understand what I mean.”               Belle and Henry exchange a glance and nod. Yes, they do.

“Then why condemn your son and his true love to a sleeping curse?” Belle demands to know.

“It isn’t a curse. It’s a gift,” Tauriel explains calmly. “My son is assured that Emma Swan has chosen him above herself, but he doubts that she would choose him above _all others_. Only when he’s assured of that, can his elvish heart be at rest.”

“How’s my mom supposed to do that when she’s asleep?” Henry practically shouts in frustration.

“Emma and Killian’s bodies are sleeping, but their souls are elsewhere. In alternate versions of the past, if you will. In each alternate reality, your mother will be tested. If she chooses my son each of the three times, she will awaken. Then she can awaken Killian with true love’s kiss.”

Tauriel could see Henry putting the pieces together, “But what if she doesn’t choose him?”

Tauriel’s face softens in sympathy, “Oh, Henry, your love for your birth father blinds you.”

Belle’s eyes flash, “Haven’t you stopped to consider that your love for your son has blinded you?”

“I know what true love is, as all my race do,” Tauriel proclaims with a haughty tilt of her chin.

Belle startles when she notices the woman’s image began to shimmer and fade. “Wait!” she cries as mist begins to shroud Tauriel’s form, “What happens if Emma fails your test?”

Just before she disappears, Tauriel answers with sadness and gravity.

“Then they will both die.”

              ***************************************************

Emma Swan stands on a sidewalk in New York City, arguing with a man in a _pirate_ costume. Why she’s even having this conversation or why she even dropped the assault charges to get him out of prison baffles her. “I have a life here, and it’s pretty good. I have my son, a job, a guy that I love.”

The face of the man before her falls a bit at that last declaration. His impossibly long lashes flutter against the apples of his cheeks. “Perhaps,” he says thickly, “there’s a man that you love in the life that you lost.”

She inhales a bit at that, an inexplicable desire in her heart that _he_ is that man. Is this why he’s so intent on her drinking that potion of his? She remembers the way his face had lit up when she opened the door. The way he breathed out her name like a prayer. When she finally downs the little vial, she says it’s for Henry, but that’s not really true. She has a desire deep inside that cannot be explained. A desire to know her past with this man. Hoping in the deepest reaches of her heart that she loves him. She can already see plain as day that he loves her. And while she isn’t lying about Walsh – she does love him – she also finds herself asking at times, _Is this all that love is?_ She hates to ask for more, Walsh is a good man, but she longs nonetheless. So she tilts the vial back and drinks the potion and . . .

“Hook.”

He tilts his head and gives her that saucy grin, “Did you miss me?”

Emma blinks, unsure why she suddenly feels like crying. “Hook,” she breathes again, the vial slipping from her fingers and shattering on the sidewalk.

“Emma,” he says softly, stepping forward and wrapping her in a platonic embrace.

She rests her head on his shoulder, and breathes him in. His words from Neverland come floating back to her. _You’re going to have to choose._ Hook. Neal.

Oh, crap. Walsh.

Yes, Emma Swan is going to have to choose. But for right now, she lets Hook hold her and pretends she already has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I hope it was clear enough, but the end there is the beginning of Emma's "tests" in the alternate versions of the past. Since it's an alternate past, I thought it was a great excuse to put in the hug that got cut. I also figured it would also excuse me if I didn't get the dialogue from "New York City Serenade" exactly right (in reality, I was too lazy to go check, lol)! I started with Walsh because I think that is the easiest of the three tests. I mean, does anyone really think she would choose Walsh over Killian? Didn't think so.  
> * Yes, I know Dunedain aren't half elf in Tolkien. It's my own Once type spin on it. And yes, his mother is Evangeline Lily's character from the Hobbit movies.  
> * The next chapter will be Emma's test #1: Walsh or Killian. Yeah, I know, a no-brainer. But after that will be Neal vs Killian and then Graham vs Killian.


	3. Chapter 3

              “So Killian’s _mother_ did this to them? His mother the _elf_?” Regina asks Belle with an arch of her brow, “And I thought _I_ had mommy issues.”

              “Well, that certainly explains the ears.”

              “David!” Snow admonishes.

              “Well!” David protests, “He’s a good friend, but you can’t tell me I’m the only one who noticed that his ears are a little . . .”

              “Pointed?” Belle supplies.

              “They’re not really pointed exactly, but definitely elf shaped,” David replies.

              “Wow,” Regina says with a roll of her eyes, “I knew the bromance was strong, but Snow might need to worry if you’re checking the pirate out _that_ closely.”

              David just glares at Regina and Snow can’t help suppressing a smile. Regina’s snarky comments may be irritating at times, but at least they lighten the mood. “What I don’t understand,” Snow muses, “is why she didn’t just tell us this the other day. Why you and Henry?”

              Belle glances around at those gathered in the living room of Emma and Killian’s house. She hesitates for a moment before answering, “I know putting Emma and Killian under this curse seems like an odd thing for a mother to do, but I got the impression that Tauriel is both intensely proud and protective of Killian. Perhaps she sees me and Henry as the two people who care the most for him? Outside of Emma, of course.”

              Belle bites on her lower lip after the words leave her mouth. She knows that the three people gathered here have come to accept Killian as their friend, but David and Snow are still first and foremost Emma’s parents. And Regina’s past with Killian is complicated to say the least. Belle can understand Tauriel’s hesitancy to trust them, but will the rest of them understand that? No one speaks, but the looks they all exchange say volumes. Snow nods her head briefly in understanding.

              “Speaking of Henry,” Regina says, breaking the awkward silence, “where is he? He told me he was here with you.”

              “He’s upstairs reading to his parents. He thought it might help,” at Regina’s incredulous expression, Belle hastily adds, “Henry’s words, not mine.”

              Snow places a tentative hand on Regina’s arm, “It’s good that he sees Killian that way. After all, in just a few weeks, he’ll be his stepdad.”

              Regina shrugs Snow off. “I know,” she says brusquely as she heads for the stairs, “I’m just going to go up and check on him.”

              As Regina mounts the stairs, she’s able to analyze her emotions away from the prying eyes of the others. She knows in the rational part of her that her fears of losing Henry are foolish. But as she watches Henry bond with Killian, those fears rear their ugly head anyway. Emma’s giving him everything he ever wanted: a relationship with his birth mother, a cozy house he helped pick out, and a father. Eventually there will probably be a little pirate baby, and once again Emma will have given him something else Regina never could: a sibling. Regina takes a deep breath as she pauses in the hallway, Henry’s voice drifting towards her from the master bedroom. Henry loves her, she knows this. But if she’s completely honest with herself, she still hates having to share him.

              When Regina reaches the bedroom, she leans against the door frame, watching her son. Emma and Killian lie motionless on the bed, and Henry has pulled up a chair next to them. A large, leather volume lays open on his lap as he reads aloud.

              “ _Why are you doing this?_ asks the pirate as he struggles against his bonds. _Have I lied to you? Why do this to me now?_ Emma, the fiery princess, hesitates. Her super power has already told her he’s telling the truth, but she’s afraid anyway. Not because he’s Captain Hook, but because of the connection she senses they have. For a moment she feels guilty, but she refuses to back down. _I can’t take a chance that I’m wrong about you._ She tells him, and she walks away quickly, his protestations ringing in her ears.”

              Regina moves to stand beside him, and places a hand on his shoulder. Henry pauses his reading and looks up at her with a smile. “I know they probably can’t hear me,” he says, “but it helped Grandpa when Grandma read their love story to him.” Henry shrugs. “I thought it was worth a try.”               “I didn’t know this story was in a book,” Regina says as she lifts the book from Henry’s lap. Across the front is written not _Once Upon a Time_ but _The Pirate and the Princess_. “Where did you get this?”

              Henry shrugs sheepishly, “I wrote it. Or I’m writing it I should say. It isn’t finished yet. I want to have it ready as a wedding gift.”

              Regina arches an eyebrow as she flips through the pages. Some of the pictures give her pause: Killian tying a bandage around Emma’s hand with his teeth and a rather passionate kiss in Neverland. “Your mom and Captain Guyliner _told_ you about this stuff? Some of it’s positively PG-13!”

              Henry blushes slightly, “Um, no, I’m the author mom, remember? The words just come. And I don’t draw the pictures, they just appear.” He takes the book back from Regina. “And I read Grandma and Grandpa’s story. It was never . . . embarrassing.”

              “Yeah, well, you’re grandparents spent their romance in the woods with fluffy animals, not in . . . taverns and jungles with flasks of rum.”

              Henry just shakes his head at his mom in that teenage way that says Regina is overreacting. He then sets the book on the bedside table and takes his other mother’s limp hand. “Isn’t there anything you can do to help them, Mom?” Henry asks Regina with pleading eyes.

              Regina takes a deep breath, “I can examine them one more time I suppose.” She doubts it will help, but she refuses to disappoint her son. She walks around to the other side of the bed and raises her hands above Killian’s still form. Before she examines him with her magic, she glances down at his face and pauses. “Henry,” she says, leaning closer to Killian, “does he look flushed to you?”

              Henry leans across Emma. “Yeah, and is he sweating?”

              Regina puts the back of her hand to Killian’s forehead to find it practically on fire. “He’s burning up! Check your mother.”

              Henry does the same with Emma’s forehead, then shakes his head, “No, just the opposite. She feels very cold, actually.”

              Regina races around the bed in alarm and puts two fingers to Emma’s throat. “Her pulse is very faint.” Regina marches to the door and shouts down the hallway. “David! Get up here quick!”

              “What’s wrong!” David shouts, and Regina can hear his boots pounding up the stairs, the hurried steps of Snow and Belle following behind him. Regina turns to the three of them grimly as they pause in the doorway.

              “We need to get them to the hospital.”

                            *********************************************************

              “I came back to save you.”

              Emma’s eyes widen slightly and her breath catches in her throat at the sincerity of that single sentence. She had just been thinking to herself how natural this felt; the two of them drinking rum and talking. Despite the sexual tension constantly buzzing between them, being with Hook was also incredibly easy. With him, she could just _be_. Until he went making sweeping, romantic declarations. She’s saved from having to respond by the buzzer announcing her dinner guest. Emma groans. _Walsh_.

              She knows she has no choice; she has to go to Storybrooke and be the savior once again. But this life she’s been living in New York: it’s easy, it’s safe. It’s _normal_. Emma needs that to come back to. Henry needs that. Walsh has been good to her, and just because Hook’s presence has sent hormonal teenage longings coursing through her veins doesn’t negate what she and Walsh have together. She can’t risk losing that just because another villain is apparently on the loose. She has to have a normal for her and Henry to come back to.

              So Emma dons her coat and leaves Hook brooding at her kitchen table. He seemed hurt when she mentioned the eight months she spent with Walsh, but she can’t be responsible for that.

              Now she’s here on the roof with Walsh trying to explain that she has to go away without actually explaining.

              “So your answer is no?” Walsh asks, hurt showing clearly in his eyes.

              “No,” Emma answers with a shake of her head. She steps forward and takes his hands in hers, “You said I could take as much time as I need, remember? And something has come up. I have to go away for while, but I’ll be back. _Then_ we can talk about our future together.”

              “Is there someone else?”

              Emma can’t help thinking about Hook sitting in her apartment at this very moment. When she answers, her voice sounds slightly guilty, even to her own ears. “Of course not. It’s just . . . someone from my past showed up, and I have to go home and deal with some things.”

              “A man from your past.”

              “More like . . . a ghost. Anyway, this person needs my help, and I can’t shirk my responsibility. I’ll take care of it as quickly as I can. I promise.”

              Walsh narrows his eyes at her. “I thought you said you had no home.”

              Emma bites her lip. Darn it. Henry always says for someone who can spot lies, she certainly is bad at telling them. “I never said that, exactly. I told you I was in several foster homes. Well, one was in Maine. That’s where I’m going.”

              “Maine?” Walsh shakes his head and walks several steps away from her. He kicks a lawn chair angrily and runs his hands through his hair. Emma jumps slightly. She’s never seen him like this. “So I’m just supposed to sit around waiting for you while you run off to Maine with a . . . ghost?”

              “A foster brother,” Emma blurts out before she’s thought it through. “I never mentioned him because it involved a lot of . . . painful memories. Anyway, he’s in trouble and needs my help. We . . . always said we’d help each other if we needed it.”

              Walsh crosses his arms across his chest and stalks towards her. Emma swallows hard and wills herself not to lean away from him. She always thought he was a calm, gentle man. Does she know him at all?

              “I just asked you if it was a man Emma,” Walsh practically growls.

              “You insinuated I was leaving you for another man,” Emma snaps back. They’ve never fought like this! “I just told you he’s a foster _brother_.”

              “Okay then, I want to meet him.”

              “Wh-what?”

              “Before you leave for Main, I want to meet him.”

              Hook’s voice rings in her mind. _Bloody hell!_

                            ********************************************************

              “Thank you, Hannah, I really appreciate this,” Emma says before ending the call and setting her cell phone on the kitchen counter. She looks over at Hook who stands in front of the picture window on the other side of the kitchen table. “Avery’s mother says its fine for Henry to stay the night. She says she’ll make sure he gets to school in the morning.”

              Hook just nods without even glancing her way. “I’ll get some clean sheets for the couch. I’d give you Henry’s room, but his bed is a twin and pretty small.” She swallows hard as she takes in his rigid stance, his shoulders thrown back, strong and confident. Even in her apartment, he looks the part of a pirate captain. He swallows the space, but not just with his physical presence.

              She returns with the linens and sets them on the couch. She then moves to stand next to him, hugging her arms. She takes in his profile as he surveys the city lights and notices that he’s clenching his jaw. When she informed him that he would have to meet Walsh before they could leave, he took it silently, nothing but the flashing of his blue eyes to hint at any frustration. She knows he feels an urgency to get to Storybrooke, but there’s something else, too. He seems a bit more . . . vulnerable than the last time she had seen him. No, she takes that back. He was incredibly vulnerable last time she saw him, so was she for that matter. For the lost boy and lost girl that they both are, anyway.

              _Not a day will go by that I won’t think of you._

_Good._

But the cocky swagger and innuendos are dialed back quite a bit, and in their place is a broodiness that pains her. There’s quite a bit he isn’t telling her, but his intentions are honorable. That she can sense, at least.

              “Hook, how did you even get here?”

              “Killian,” he says, still not looking at her, “if the story we concocted is going to work, you have to get used to calling me Killian.”

              “Right,” Emma says, with a brief nod. She reaches her hand out tentatively and rests it on his arm, “ _Killian_ , how did you find me? I mean, have you been taking care of yourself? You must be hungry. Maybe I should order a pizza.”

              “Are you thinking of marrying him?”

              His eyes finally meet hers, and the blue of them sparkle in the lights coming through the window. They seem stormy and deep; awash in emotions that are both thrilling and terrifying at the same time. She blinks when he speaks again, realizing she’s done nothing but stare at him.

              “Are you actually considering his proposal?”               The slight edge to his voice riles her, and Emma’s response is biting, “I told you we’ve been together for eight months. I told you I love him. So yeah, I’m considering it.”

              He tears his eyes away from her, training them on his feet instead. His jaw clenches harder and his adam’s apple bobs painfully. When he looks back at her, he also takes a step closer into her personal space. Emma doesn’t mind it a bit, staring him down in challenge, toe to toe as always.

              “Even though he has no idea who you really are. No idea of the magic that thrums through your veins, the savior, the product of true love.”

              “I never asked to be any of that!” Emma throws her words back at him, feeling suddenly free. Their shouting matches she can deal with. “All I ever wanted was a normal life. A family. Walsh can give me that!”

              “You have a family!” Killian throws right back, his voice rising.

              “Fairy tale characters, Hook! Nothing but stories!” Emma shouts. She gestures out the window, “But this? _This_ is the real world. This is what I want for Henry.”

              “So you’re just going to fulfill your duty and then leave?”

              “Yes! Why shouldn’t I?”

              “Because I thought – after the town line, I thought - “ Killian breaks off and looks away from her, shaking his head.

              “What did you think, huh? Did you think I’d drink that potion then swoon into your arms, declaring my feelings for you?”

              Emma’s chest is heaving from all the shouting, and she’s waiting, waiting for him to rail at her again. For some reason, it’s invigorating. Cathartic. But when he turns to her, the fight has left him, and the anguish in his eyes is clear.

              “No, Emma. I didn’t think you would need to drink it at all.”

              Emma blinks in surprise. What could he mean? Then she thinks back to the morning he showed up at her door. _I was hoping you felt the same as I do._ Oh. _OH._ Did he really think that they . . . ? Did he really . . .?

              Emma swallows hard and backs away from him. “I’m tired, Ho – Killian,” she mumbles, “we have a big day tomorrow.”

              His words drift after her as she practically runs for her bedroom. “As you wish.”

                             ***************************************************

              Emma pauses in front of the door of the coffee shop, glancing at Killian to her right. She looks him up and down, trying to imagine what Walsh’s first impression will be, and suddenly wishes she hadn’t chosen modern clothes that were quite so . . . _Killian_. It’s the perfect look for him: dark wash skinny jeans, a dark blue shirt with a subtle, dark purple paisley print, topped off with a black leather vest and a black leather jacket. She tried to get him to button the shirt all the way, but he had refused. Still, a lot less chest hair is on display than in his pirate get up. But now she’s second guessing this. Maybe “crazy guy in a pirate costume” would have been less intimidating to Walsh than “edgy hot as hell rock star.”

              “Ready love?” Killian asks, arching those eyebrows that evidently have a mind of their own. His eyes are also still lined in kohl – something else she had lost a battle on.

              Emma sighs, “As ready as I’ll ever be,” and pushes open the door.

              Walsh is waiting for them in a corner booth, and Emma brushes a hello kiss to his cheek then slides into the seat across from him. Killian shakes Walsh’s hand and nods in greeting, then slides into the booth next to Emma. It makes sense; no way is Killian going to cozy up with Walsh on the same side of the booth. And Emma’s never been the type of cuddly girlfriend who squeezes into the same side of the booth as her boyfriend. Still, the current seating arrangement feels a little awkward. Even more so when Killian lounges back, all cocky attitude, and slings his arm over the back of the booth behind Emma. Killian has his head tilted back, one eyebrow arched, and his tongue tucked into his cheek. She can see him and Walsh sizing each other up, and she’s tempted to kick Killian under the table.

              “So . . . “ Emma begins, filling the charged silence, “Walsh Oak, this is Killian Jones. Killian, Walsh.”

              “Emma tells me you’re her foster brother,” Walsh says. It isn’t lost on Emma that he skips right over social pleasantries. Walsh is sitting with perfect posture, hands clasped on the table top, in direct contrast with Killian’s relaxed posture. But Killian straightens and inches just a fraction closer to Emma before answering.

              “That’s right. We were in the same home in Maine for a while. What was it, Emma? Four months?”

              Emma blinks and forces her jaw to close at the sound of a perfect American accent falling from Killian’s lips. His smile is confident as he looks at her, waiting for a reply. He had said last night not to worry about the farce; he was adaptable. That was an understatement. The problem of his accent had never occurred to her, and here he was slipping into it as smoothly as he had slipped into his new jeans.

              “Um . . . yes, that’s right. When we were 13.”

              Emma tears her eyes away from Killian’s face to see a frown on Walsh’s. Darn it. They should have gone younger. 11 would have sounded better.

              “Four months?” Walsh said, eyes narrowed. “That’s not very long. You bonded that much in four months?”

              “Yeah,” Killian says with a nonchalant shrug, and Emma’s glad she hasn’t gotten any coffee yet. If she had anything in her mouth at this moment, Killian’s _yeah_ would have had her choking on it. “Four months in one home was a long time for the two of us.”

              Emma marvels at Killian’s act as he smoothly orders a coffee. When did he learn what a latte was? Just because Emma could call him out on his lying didn’t mean Killian wasn’t good at it. It occurred to her that he probably did this a lot in his pirating days – pretending to be someone else. The way he had answered Walsh’s question was brilliant – casual with absolutely no need to elaborate. Elaborating added too many details. Too many details, and eventually you slipped up.

              “If you were only there four months, why would you want to go back there?”

              This was a question they had anticipated. Killian waves his prosthetic. “Got into an accident a while back. Recovery was tough, and I lost my job. The foster parents Emma and I had back then were good people, and they’ve stayed in touch with both of us. They have a job waiting for me in Maine, with a place to stay.”

              “So take a bus.”

              “Walsh!”

              Walsh sighs and toys with his coffee cup.

              “It’s okay, Emma,” Killian quickly jumps in. “I get it, man. If I had a girlfriend as beautiful as Emma, I wouldn’t want her taking off with some other guy, either. But I wouldn’t have called her if I wasn’t desperate. I have no money and no car. Emma and I have always been there for each other.”

              Man? Guy? When had Killian picked up the slang of this world?

              “See, honey,” Emma adds, hoping she could smooth things over, “I told you.”

              Walsh shakes his head. “If you two have kept in touch all these years, why am I just now hearing all of this?”

              This was one Emma and Killian had gone around and around about last night with no good explanation. They had finally decided to just hope it didn’t come up. So much for that.

              “Well,” Killian says with false brightness, “would you tell people about your loser foster brother with one hand?”

              Emma frowns. Does he really think her opinion of him is that low? “That’s not true,” she says without thinking, and Killian’s brows go up. “Remember how I defended you – used to defend you to my – I mean, that camping trip, remember? The one when it was so hot?”

              Understanding dawns in Killian’s eyes and a smile flirts with the corner of his mouth. “You mean the one where we played truth or dare in that cave?”

              Emma can’t help smiling. “Yeah, that one. Wasn’t it kind of obvious that I didn’t hate you? That I didn’t at all think you were – a _loser_?”

              “Yeah, I guess it was,” Killian says softly.

              “You guys have been camping together?” Walsh asks, and Emma suddenly realizes that she and Killian have gotten lost in each other’s eyes. She tears herself away from Killian’s gaze and looks at Walsh, whose face has turned red. A vein is also throbbing in his temple. Uh-oh.

              “Aye,” Killian replies, accidentally slipping into his normal accent. His eyes are still locked on Emma. “I’ll never forget that kiss as long as I live.”

              Emma’s eyes fly open wide as Walsh fumes. Killian doesn’t seem the least bit flustered, though. He turns to look straight at Walsh and says, voice dripping with attitude, “We said we had history.”

              Emma closes her eyes and groans. Walsh leaps from his seat and hauls Killian up by his shoulders. Killian just smirks right back at him.

              “Listen, you Jon Bon Jovi wannabe, I don’t care what kind of _history_ you have with my fiancé, but you are going to leave her alone from now on. You can walk your pathetic, one-handed self all the way to Maine for all I care.”

              “She isn’t your fiancé,” Killian seethes, and Emma sees Killian’s irises turn a stormy, dark blue. Walsh has no idea who he’s dealing with, but Emma does. She reaches out and grasps Killian’s arm.

              “Calm down, Killian. Don’t do anything stupid.”

              At the sound of her voice, Killian turns wounded eyes her way. “You think that’s what I am? Stupid?’ He pushes Walsh off him and nods. “One-handed and stupid. Got it.” Then he turns and storms out of the coffee shop.

              Emma presses her eyes closed for a moment, pain washing through her. “Killian!” she shouts jumping up to go after him. “That isn’t what I meant –“               Walsh grabs her by the arm and whirls her around. “Don’t Emma.”

              “Excuse me?”               Walsh’s face is contorted with anger and jealousy. “Don’t go after him. Because if you do, you can forget about me.”

              “I can’t just let him take off like this, Walsh!” Emma argues, “He’s my friend!”

              “Oh please, Emma, quit lying to me!”

              Emma rolls her eyes, “If this is about the kiss he brought up, it was ages ago.”

              Walsh shakes his head. “Tell me the truth for once, Emma. It’s obvious he’s in love with you.”               Emma lowers her head. “Fine. You’re right. Are you happy?”

              “And you could barely tear your eyes off him,” Walsh continues in a whisper. He looks up at her with a direct gaze. “Hear me Emma. You go after him, and it’s over between us.”

              Emma looks down at his hand that still grips her arm, and she has sudden clarity. Even if Storybrooke didn’t need saving, if it was just the simple choice of Walsh or Killian, she would still make the choice she’s about to make.

              She pulls her arm out of Walsh’s grip and takes off after Killian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Sorry for the long wait! I hit a very serious problem: how in the world was I going to have the Walsh vs. Killian choice play out? I started with Walsh still being Zelena's henchman, but Killian specifically wondered "what if Walsh had been an ordinary guy?" I mean, I knew the choice was an easy one. It was how it would play out plot wise that had me stumped. I ended up liking the little passive-aggressive confrontation with Walsh in the coffee shop, though. I hope you did too!  
> * Coming up next, Emma has to choose between Neal and Killian. So many people have written such wonderful fics already on this topic, I am wracking my brain trying to come up with a fresh way to do it. Hopefully, the muse will be more cooperative on this one, and you won't have such a long wait! :)


	4. Chapter 4

              Everything is a wild, chaotic rush in Storybrooke General when Emma and Killian are wheeled in. Snow knows that’s typical in an emergency, and what seems like chaos to the casual observer is actually knowledgeable protocol for the hospital staff. Still, Snow’s heart is in her throat as Emma and Killian are transferred to hospital beds and hooked up to machines. They can’t find Emma’s heart beat at first, while Killian’s heart beat is erratic. Nurses and doctors bark things Snow doesn’t understand, until finally, a calm descends. Both are stable again, and Whale confirms what they already knew – medical science can’t explain this.

              Snow collapses on a chair in the hospital room, her hands shaking and her heart still racing. David puts a hand to her shoulder and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

              “They’re going to be fine,” David assures her, and Snow reaches up and squeezes his hand.

              But there’s no rest for the weary, apparently, because just as David suggests getting them some coffee, Killian begins jerking on the bed. Snow rushes to his side and places one hand on his shoulder and the other on his forehead. She pushes his hair back and finds that this time, at least, he has no fever. Snow looks at David with a fierce expression.

              “What kind of mother does this to her own son?”

              Before David can reply, the room is flooded with hospital staff again. Emma’s monitors start beeping as the nurses inject Killian with something to stop his seizures. David pulls Snow gently away from the flurry of activity and out into the hall. Belle and Regina are just arriving with Henry, and the teenager rushes for the hospital room door in alarm. David stops him before he can go in.

              “Let me go!” Henry argues, jerking away. “What’s going on? I have to see if they’re okay.”

              “Calm down, Henry,” David says sternly, placing both hands on the boy’s shoulders. “You can’t do anything in there.”

              “But I have to do something!”

              “You’re right, Henry,” Snow agrees firmly, “and what I need you to do is go back to the forest with Belle. You find Tauriel, and you tell her to stop this. Now.”

              “She seemed pretty adamant that this was a gift,” Belle said tentatively. “What could we possibly say to sway her?”

              Snow was the angriest Belle had ever seen her when she gave her reply. “You tell her she’s killing her son. And my daughter along with him.”

                            *********************************************************

              Emma sits at the small desk in her room at Granny’s, tapping the complimentary pencil against the complimentary notepad she had fished out of a small drawer. A line is drawn down the middle, two names at the top. She looks at it, then out the window, then down at the paper, then out the window again. She blows a stray hair out of her face and thinks, not for the first time, that this is stupid idea. Killian had offered to take Henry sailing (where they were getting a boat, Emma didn’t ask, mainly so she wouldn’t feel compelled as sheriff to try and stop them), so Emma should have been doing something productive about defeating the Wicked Witch. Instead, she’s sitting here taking advantage of a brief quiet moment to make a pro\con list, of all things.

              She gazes out at the horizon, and not for the first time, wonders where exactly _is_ the Jolly Roger. That was the other reason she hadn’t pressed the issue of what boat they were planning on sailing. The one time she had asked Killian about his ship, he had been evasive and noticeably uncomfortable.

              Emma bites the end of the pencil as she looks at the two names scribbled on the pad of paper. Killian had said in Neverland that she was going to have to choose. But she feels no more ready to choose now than she did then. Safer for her heart if she just doesn’t choose at all. But her parents and Neal are not letting up, and she’s sick of it. Hence the pro\con list.

_Emma thinks back to the first day they were back in Storybrooke and had gathered in the sitting area of her and Henry’s suite. Her parents explained this new curse, and Regina’s name immediately came up as suspect number one._

_“I honestly don’t think so,” Emma had argued. “She seemed as confused as anyone else when I talked to her. My super power tells me she was telling the truth; she has nothing to do with this.”_

_Neal, who had been standing in the corner with his arms crossed, scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Come on, Ems, enough with the super power thing. Besides, even if you could read lies, the Evil Queen can fool anyone.”_

_“I don’t doubt Emma’s super power for one minute.”_

_Everyone looked with surprise at Killian, who had been leaning against the wall, looking out the window as if on guard. His tone was adamant, and the look he gave Neal was positively incredulous._

_“She can read my lies in a heartbeat. And I’m one of the best at subterfuge,” his last statement was accentuated with a quirk of his eyebrows. Killian pushed off from the wall casually, but the look he gave Emma was an intense one. “If Emma says Regina isn’t lying, then she isn’t lying.”_

              Emma pulls the pencil from her lips and scribbles “believes in me” under Killian’s name. Even at the top of the beanstalk ( _Have I lied to you?_ ) and in New York ( _Use you’re super power . . ._ ), he had never doubted her. She looks at Neal’s column and simply strikes a straight, dark line. Even back when they were together, he had always treated her like the young, naïve kid while he was the one guiding her and teaching her the ropes. Whenever she had an opinion on a new scam to try, Neal had always shot it down.

              Emma puts down the pencil for a moment to massage her temples. _Neal_. Ever since Killian had brought her and Henry back to Storybrooke, things had been strained and just _awkward_ with Neal. Like her suddenly calling Hook by his name. It had made Neal go positively postal.

              _“Oh, so it’s **Killian** now?”_

_“Yeah, because our son doesn’t have his memories, remember?” Emma had snapped back in frustration. “Don’t you think Henry would find it odd if I called him Hook?”_

_“Whatever, Ems,” Neal had snorted with a shake of his head, “like I haven’t heard you call him that when Henry isn’t even around.”_

_“So what? He has a name, you know.”_

And then there was the fight a couple of weeks ago. Whether it was about Killian spending time with Henry or about her learning magic with Regina, Emma wasn’t sure. Well, honestly, it was probably both. Emma had been innocently ordering a couple of bagels from Granny when it started.

              _“Hey, Ems, glad I found you. Listen, I was hoping I could hang out with Henry today. I’ve missed him.”_

_Emma took the paper bag of bagels from Granny and turned hesitantly to Neal. “Look, that’s not a good idea. I mean, Henry doesn’t have his memories, Neal. He has no idea who you are.”_

_Neal shrugged, “Well, he’ll get to know me, then.”_

_“Neal, I would never let Henry hang out with some man I didn’t know. And Henry knows that. I’m sorry, but the answer is no. Too many things could go wrong.”_

_Emma had moved to leave, but Neal had stopped her with a hand to her arm, “But you’ll let him hang out with Hook.”_

_“Because he’s the only person in Storybrooke that Henry knows! Besides, he’s good with Henry, and Henry likes him.”_

_Emma second-guessed adding that last bit when she saw Neal’s eyes narrow. “In Henry’s mind, he just brought you two here a couple of weeks ago.”_

_“Yeah,” Emma retorted, “several hours in the car from New York to Maine will bond people, Neal. Besides, I told Henry that he’s an old friend.”_

_“So, tell him **I’m** an old friend.”_

_Emma sighed deeply. She did NOT have time for this. Before she could reply, Henry came into the diner with his backpack and his Gameboy in hand._

_“Ready to go, mom. I want to show Killian this game today. Can you believe he’s never played a video game? I mean, Killian’s cool and all, but boy is he out of touch.”_

_Looking back, Emma had to admit the whole situation had been made ten times worse by the way it must have smarted when Henry didn’t even so much as glance in Neal’s direction. Neal had glared daggers and then pulled Emma aside._

_“He’s hanging out with Killian today? Again?”_

_Emma massaged her temple and sighed deeply. “I needed someone to watch him. Mom and Dad are preoccupied with the baby, so that just leaves Killian.”_

_For a moment, Neal’s anger was replaced by concern. “Why do you need a babysitter? You’re not planning on facing that witch alone, are you?”               “No,” Emma was quick to reassure him, “Regina is starting my training today. To use magic.”_

_Neal shook his head adamantly, “No, Emma, no way. You are NOT using magic.”_

_“Okay, first off, that’s my decision, not yours. And second, why not? Only light magic can defeat the wicked witch. I have light magic. I’m the savior. I just need to learn how to use it.”_

_“Magic brings nothing but pain and heartache Emma, and I want nothing to do with it.”_

_Emma had had enough of the conversation, so she shoved past him and muttered, “Then I guess you want nothing to do with me, then.” But as she had walked with Henry to the docks to meet Killian, she began to doubt herself. Was Neal right? She spotted Killian talking to Smee at the end of the pier, and pushed her concerns aside for the moment. She told Henry to wait a minute while she spoke with Killian. He had told her he would be glad to spend time with Henry any time she needed him to, but she still felt a little guilty asking. Most people, especially men, weren’t one hundred percent truthful when offering to babysit “anytime.”_

_“Swan!” he proclaimed in greeting, “What can I do for you on this fine day?”_

_Good, he was genuinely happy to see her. His proclamation was a little forced; she guessed it had something to do with his conversation with Smee, but the sentiment behind it was genuine, at least._

_“Listen,” Emma said to him, speaking low so Henry wouldn’t overhear, “I was wondering if you could watch Henry again for me today.”_

_“You know, lass,” Killian teased, leading with his hips as he sauntered into her personal space, “if you wish to spend more time with me, no need to use the lad as an excuse.” He gazed at her with sparkling eyes, his tongue tucked into his cheek._

_Emma gave the obligatory roll of her eyes but made no attempt to hide her smile. His flirting always had a way of making her worries melt away. “I’m serious. Regina is giving me lessons today. To help me learn to use my magic to defeat the wicked witch.”_

_A softer smile filled Killian’s face and his eyes locked on hers intensely. With all sincerity, he told her, “That’s the best idea anyone’s had since we got back.”_

_“Really?” Emma breathed. She suddenly needed his assurance desperately. “You don’t think it’s dangerous? I mean, all magic comes with a price, right?”_

_Killian tilted even closer to her. So close she could see sparks of green in the blue of his eyes. “That’s dark magic, Swan. What’s inside of you is light magic. Don’t forget, I was there when Cora tried to take your heart. What you have is special; it’s a part of you. It’s time you embraced it.”_

_Emma felt a lump form in her throat at his words. She could plainly tell he meant every word. She locked her gaze on his and lost her breath for a moment at what she saw there. Attraction, yes, but she also saw admiration. The first she was used to, the second had been extremely rare in her life. The feeling it wrought in her suddenly became overwhelming, and she broke away from his gaze. All of a sudden, she was struck by the ramification of something he had said._

_“What a minute,” Emma said to him, narrowing her eyes, “what do you mean you saw Cora try to take my heart? I seem to recall you were unconscious.”_

_Killian gave a nervous chuckle and scratched behind his ear, “Aye, love, well . . . I may have thrown that sword fight.” He cocked his head saucily, “Just a wee bit.”_

_“Please,” Emma scoffed, “I beat you fair and square, and you know it.”_

_Killian took a step closer to her. If he hadn’t turned his head at the last moment, his nose would have brushed with hers. “We can have a rematch anytime, Swan,” he whispered huskily in her ear, “just say the word.”_

_Emma swallowed hard as a shiver of desire coursed through her at his close proximity and his breath ghosting against the pulse point behind her ear. Once she had composed herself, she took a step back and shook her head, “Like I’ve got time for your games, Killian. There’s a witch on the loose, remember?”_

_Emma had walked away from him then, holding his gaze for a few moments before turning and sauntering away. Maybe she swung her hips a little more than necessary. Maybe._

Emma taps her pencil a few times before writing “accepts me for who I am” and “encourages me” under Killian’s name. Once again, she frowns and thinks for a few moments before simply scratching lines for each of those under Neal’s name. She can’t help the wry chuckle that escapes her lips as she eyes her list so far. Maybe she should make a copy and give it to her parents. Ugh, her parents! Emma leans back in the chair and stairs for a moment up at the ceiling fan. Her parents just won’t seem to let up nudging her towards Neal, asking about Neal, making false assumptions about Neal. Maybe with her Dad, despite what he says, its more about keeping her away from Hook. But her mother? Her mother seems to think just because Neal is Henry’s father, that makes him Emma’s soulmate. Of course, that all may have changed after dinner last night. Emma’s still not sure what came over her . . .

              _She had been sitting at the counter with Killian, laughing with him over a story he was telling her about the one and only time he let Smee trim his beard. One of the many things she had recently discovered about Killian was that he was a fantastic storyteller. He was so into his story, and Emma was laughing so hard, they hadn’t heard her parents approaching._

_“Emma, did you forget about dinner?” her mother asked._

_Emma turned on her stool to see her parents looking way too concerned. Did they think she forgot about meeting them? Or did they hate the sight of her with Killian **that** much?_

_“No, mom!” Emma assured, jumping up, “Of course not. Killian could just tell I needed a stress reliever, that’s all.”_

_She shared a smile with Killian, but then an awkward silence descended as Emma waited for her parents to invite him to join them. When too many minutes had ticked by, Killian cleared his throat and scratched behind his ear. She knew it by now as his nervous tell, and she mentally admonished herself for not just inviting him herself._

_“Go join your parents, love,” Killian said with a smile and a nod, and her parents at least had the sense to look a bit sheepish about the situation._

_Emma followed her parents to their usual booth, and she at first found nothing out of the ordinary that her parents shared the same side. They did that quite a bit, cheesy as it was. But then Snow addressed someone entering the diner almost before the little bell above the door stopped ringing._

_“Well, look who just walked in?” Snow enthused way too brightly. “Neal, why don’t you join us?’_

_Emma wanted to crawl under the table as her mother raised her eyebrows at her. She glanced in Killian’s direction, but Neal seemed to be the last straw for him. He tossed some coins on the counter and left without even glancing in Emma’s direction. Emma bit back a sigh as she slid over to make room for Neal._

_“Well, this is cozy!” Snow continued._

_David started a bit as if his wife had kicked him under the table. “Y-yeah, it is! With all the stuff that’s been going on, I feel like we haven’t had the time to get to know you, Neal.”_

_“Or hear the story of how you two met,” Snow practically cooed._

_And that’s when Emma apparently lost her ever-loving mind. If she was Supergirl, she could blame red kryptonite. It was THAT insane._

_“Yes!” Emma said, turning to Neal with mock enthusiasm. “Why don’t we tell my PARENTS the story of how we met while stealing a car.”_

_Neal shifted nervously, but David just laughed. “Well, Snow and I met during a robbery. Maybe it runs in the family.”_

_“Yeah,” Emma said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “I was stealing a car, but lo and behold, Neal was already in it. I stole a stolen car. Oh my goodness, it was such a funny situation, that Neal offered to buy me a drink. A drink. For a seventeen year old.” She turned to Neal and slapped a hand to his shoulder. “And how old were you again, Neal?”_

_Neal’s mouth dropped open and he stuttered for a moment. Emma laughed and gave his shoulder a little shove._

_“23? 24? And I was seventeen. And you taught me to pick locks and shop lift. And . . . oh yes, all about sex. You banged me at seventeen. A seventeen year old virgin. Want to tell my parents all about that, Neal?”_

_At that point, Neal’s face had turned a deep shade of red and a vein in David’s forehead was twitching. Snow had turned paler than usual._

_“Emma,” Neal hissed, “what the hell is your problem?”_

_“My problem?” Emma laughed. “Oh, that’s a good one, Neal. Mom and Dad wanted to know ALL about you, so I’m telling them. Let’s see . . . what else? Oh, that’s right. Pinocchio convinced you to leave me. So you phoned in a tip and had me arrested for YOUR crime.”_

_At that, Neal jumped from the booth. “I didn’t want you to go to jail, Emma! But I had to leave you so you could have all this,” he explained, gesturing around the diner._

_“Oh please, Neal, you didn’t care about my destiny. All you cared about was hiding from your father. Even when I found you in New York, you ran away from me!”_

_“I loved you, Emma! I still do! We have a son together!”_

_It wasn’t lost on Emma that he had evaded the current topic. She sighed sadly and looked down at her fisted hands. “Not enough. You didn’t love me enough.”_

_“How dare you say that!”_

_“Then what about the postcard, Neal?”_

_He shook his head in feigned ignorance. “What postcard?”_

_He didn’t believe in her super power? Hah! He was lying right this minute, and it was written all over his face._

_“I know about the postcard, Neal, so don’t lie. August told me he sent you a postcard to tell you I broke the curse. But you never came. You never came for me, Neal.”_

_Everyone had gotten eerily quiet, and suddenly Emma was very, very tired. She slid from the booth and wordlessly walked out of the diner. Neal didn’t attempt to follow her. Not that it surprised Emma. That was the point. That was Neal._

_She stopped short on the patio, surprised to see Killian sitting there. His back was to her, his head tilted up. Emma debated turning down the back alley and sneaking up to her room without acknowledging him, but Killian spoke first._

_“I came out and realized the stars are especially bright tonight.”_

_Emma sighed with relief. If he had heard her shouting match with Neal, he wasn’t going to bring it up. She moved to stand beside him, tilting her head up as well. In New York, a person could never see the stars. “Yeah,” she breathed, “they are, aren’t they? It’s beautiful.”_

_“Aye, beautiful.”_

_She turned to see that he was looking at her, not the stars. Emma was surprised to find that she liked his gaze on her. She smiled shyly in a way she wasn’t sure she had since she was a young teenager, her eyes darting to her boots. When she looked up, she cocked her head at him._

_“Did you know there’s an Italian place in Storybrooke that’s actually pretty good?”_

_“Oh, there is?”_

_“How would you feel about picking up a couple of pizzas with me and we’ll take them up and eat withHenry?”_

_“I thought you ate with your parents.”_

_Emma shrugged. “I’m tired of Granny’s.”_

_They smiled at one another, and Emma knew that Killian knew everything. But he wouldn’t say a word about it. Instead, he rose from his seat, tucking his flask into his leather duster. Emma tilted her head towards the sidewalk, and Killian followed alongside her as they headed for Bella Notte’s down the street._

_“We can watch some TV,” Emma suggested._

_“Aye, love, maybe you can explain a few things to me on that magic box. Like who the Kardashians are and why I’m supposed to be keeping up with them.”_

_Emma laughed in the night air and threaded her arm through Killian’s without even thinking about what she was doing. Later, they sat on the floor with Henry and ate pizza straight from the box. She and Henry found a_ Smallville  _marathon on the ScyFy network, and Henry explained the Superman mythology to Killian. She realized that, even without his memories, Henry still took Killian in stride, with his pirate garb and his lack of knowledge in all things modern. The evening was easy and light, full of laughter and mundane things, and it was just what Emma needed._

              Emma narrows her eyes as she looks again at her list. She adds “came back for me” to Killian’s list while Neal gets another strike. She purses her lips and wonders if she’s being too hard on Neal, so she adds “good to Henry” on Neal’s side. But then she has to put the same thing on Killian’s side, because it’s true, too. Suddenly, as she stares at everything right there before her in black and white, panic rises in her chest, and that old urge grips her. The urge to run. Before she even stands up from her chair, she’s half packed in her mind. Screw the Wicked Witch. She’s taking Henry back to New York. Tonight. But Emma doesn’t even have time to lift her suitcase to the bed before her cell phone rings, and it’s Henry.

“Hey, kid. What’s up?”

              “Mom, you know that guy who’s always trying to talk to me?”

              “You mean Neal?”               “Yeah, him. Well, he ran into me and Killian at the docks, and he just started yelling. I think he and Killian are about to get into a fight.”

              Emma groans and rubs her temple. Men! “I’ll be there as fast as I can, kid.”

              But when Emma gets to the docks, it isn’t a fist fight she sees. What she sees are several flying monkeys, screeching, circling, and diving. Neal is running into the dry docks with Henry, and Killian is shouting and waving his hands in the air. Emma shakes her head as she runs towards him. Of course he’s the bait. Why is he _always_ volunteering to be the bait? She shouts his name as a monkey dives straight towards him, claws outstretched. Killian ducks and covers his head. Emma reaches him at the same moment and dazes the creature with a burst of her magic. Killian straightens, pulling his cutlass from the scabbard at his side. The two of them stand back to back as the monkeys circle overhead. With a screech, one after the other twists in the air and dives right for them. Killian swings with his cutlass and Emma flings magic through her fingertips, and for some reason it’s exhilarating fighting side by side. They anticipate one another’s movements in a way that Emma’s never known before. Finally, the last monkey retreats, and Emma turns to Killian, breathing hard. There are dead monkeys all around them, and Emma reaches out to inspect him for scratches.

              “Did any of them get you?” she asks worriedly, hands roaming over his face and neck, and then his arms and chest.

              “Not a scratch, thanks to you.” Killian’s hands roam over her as well, “And you, love?”

              “No, I’m fine,” it comes out breathless from the fight, but then her chest constricts not from exertion, but from their close proximity. Her hand has settled at his chest, at the spot where his shirt opens, and he’s warm and sweaty.

              Killian’s hand has come to rest on her upper arm, and his prosthetic at her waist. She realizes that his cover with Henry has put him at a disadvantage. He didn’t have his hook as extra defense, and yet he had fought fearlessly. Her eyes flicker to his, but before she can do anything stupid, Neal and Henry come running towards them.

              Emma backs away from Killian just as Henry collides into her, grasping her tight. “Mom! What the hell were those things! What’s going on?”               “Those were my pets.”

              All four of them turn towards the voice, and Emma’s blood runs cold at the sight of the Wicked Witch herself sauntering towards them. Emma goes to pull Henry close, but before she knows what’s happening, Zelena has flicked her wrist and Henry is in the witch’s grasp.

              “No!” all three of the adults cry out, moving to rush forward as one.

              “Uh, uh, uh,” the witch admonishes teasingly, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Unless you want me to kill the boy.”

              “What do you want?” Neal yells.

              “What I want is for the savior to answer one simple question,” Zelena pauses and tightens her grip on Henry, “what are you willing to pay to get your son back?”

              Emma is desperate as she watches Henry’s terrified expression, “Anything,” she vows without thinking, “please, don’t hurt Henry.”

              Zelena laughs with glee, “Perfect! The boy for his father is a perfect exchange!” And with that, the witch simultaneously transports Henry back to Emma’s side just as she sends a burst of magic towards Neal.

              “No!” Killian shouts, throwing himself in front of Neal. The magic hits Killian square in the back, and he falls unconscious to the ground.

              “Killian!” Emma screams, falling to his side. She shakes him, tears filling her eyes. “Killian! Please, stay with me!”

              “I – I’ll call an ambulance,” Neal chokes out.

              Zelena comes closer, laughing. “Well, well, this is quite the plot twist. The poor pirate takes the hit. The one pining from unrequited love.” She throws her head back and laughs some more, and it’s more than Emma can bear. With a scream of anguished rage, she shoots a fireball towards Zelena, but the witch disappears in a puff of smoke before it can hit her.

                                           *****************************************************

              Emma stands in front of the window that looks into Killian’s hospital room, and the only way she can describe this feeling is numb . . . and cold. She feels very, very cold. Regina comes out of the room, her face grim.

              “There’s no doubt about it, it’s a sleeping curse,” she tells them all with a sigh. “But Whale is insisting on keeping him for observation, just in case.”

              “Wow,” Neal breathes out, “that sucks for Hook. Who are we gonna find to kiss him?”

              Neal says it in the most serious voice, not at all tongue in cheek, but Emma doesn’t care. She channels the sob she’s choking back into anger.

              “Go to hell, Neal,” Emma snaps as she pushes past him.

              “Emma, honey,” her mom says, trying to stop her with a hand to her arm.

              “Don’t, mom. Not now. Please. I want to be alone.”

              Late that night, she’s tossing and turning, the scene from earlier replaying in her mind. And the one image her mind keeps locking on is Killian lying so still and cold on the ground. The term “death-like sleep” is no exaggeration. Eventually, she gives up and throws back the covers. She dresses quickly, but before she heads out the door, and idea strikes her. She sits down again at the little desk and rips her pro\con list off the top of the notepad. Then she picks up the pencil and writes and writes. She writes and the words just pour out of her. Her hands shake. She’s never been this vulnerable in her life, but good God, she’s going to get this out if it kills her. She fills up three sheets, and even though the notepad is small, that’s still a lot for Emma. She folds the papers and stuffs them, along with the stupid pro\con list, into her coat pocket. She checks on Henry and then heads to Storybrooke General.

              The halls are empty, of course, and she hesitates in the door of Killian’s room. It takes her back to the last time he was in the hospital. _Hide him!_ She’d been worried about him, even then, but now she’s scared to death. She makes her way to the bed and pulls a chair up as close as she can. She leans over the bed and does something she has longed to do since she first met him: she runs her fingers through his hair. It’s just as soft and thick as she’d always imagined. She runs her thumb along his jaw line, and as she does, she whispers, “hey.”

              She chuckles at herself as she rearranges his hair she’s mussed. “I know, real eloquent, right? Well, we can’t all be the wordsmith you are, Killian.”

              Emma stops touching his face and grasps his hand instead, “Remember when you told me I would have to choose? Well, I’ve actually thought about that and . . .” she takes one of her hands from his and reaches into her coat pocket. “I actually made a pro\con list. And the thing is, I know that’s not a good idea. I mean, I’ve seen that episode of _Friends_. Didn’t work so well for Ross!”

              She laughs nervously again and squeezes his hand, “And I wish you were awake so you could make that cute face. The one you make when you have no idea what I’m talking about.” A tear rolls down Emma’s face and she wipes it away, “But I’m getting ahead of myself, because that’s in the letter.” She shuffles the papers nervously in her hands. “Yeah, Killian, I wrote you a letter. Because you know me and my walls. This way I can avoid eye contact . . . even though you’re unconscious.”

              Emma shuffles the papers in her hands and then begins to read, voice thick with emotion. “Dear Killian, you have to wake up. And just in case you needed a reason, I wrote down all the things I would miss if you don’t. First, I’ll miss the way you flirt with me just to get me to roll my eyes. I’ll miss the way you offer me your flask or tell a story when you know I need to get my mind off things for a little while. I’ll miss that adorable face you make when something from this world confuses you,” Emma stops for a moment to laugh as tears start to fill up her eyes. Then she composes herself and continues, “I’ll miss the way you constantly get into my personal space. I’ll miss the way the two of us fight side by side – quite the team, as you would say.” At the next part of the letter, Emma keeps having to stop as sobs start to shake her body. “I’ll miss the way you always believe in me, the way you encourage me to be myself, and never give up on me. In short, I’ll miss my best friend.” Emma looks up at Killian as tears stream down her face. She grasps his hand in hers. “Because that’s what you’ve become, Killian, my best friend. So please, wake up. Because I can’t lose you. I need you, Killian. Yours, Emma.”

              “Kiss him, Emma.”

              Emma startles and looks up to see Neal standing in the doorway. “Neal! What are you doing here?” she asks, voice shaky and embarrassed. She drops the letter in her lap and wipes at her wet cheeks.

              Neal takes just one step into the room. “I couldn’t sleep. Hook tried to be there for me in Neverland; we were close once. And today. That spell was meant for me. I should be the one in that bed.” Neal gave a wry laugh and a shrug, “Good thing I’m not, huh? I asked who would kiss Hook, but I guess the real question is, who would kiss me?”

              Emma holds tight to the papers in her lap. “How much did you hear?”

              “Starting with the pro\con list.”

              Emma ducks her head as her cheeks flame. “So the whole thing, huh?”

              Neal pauses for a moment, and then says again, “Kiss him, Emma. He loves you. He loves you in the way that I never could. I know that now. And it’s plain to see that you love him, too. So kiss him. Wake him up.”

              Emma just stares at Neal for a moment, open mouthed. Then she clutches Killian’s hand again and looks at him as she stutters, “You mean you think that . . . but what if we’re not . . .”

              “You are, Emma. Trust me, you are.”

              Emma leans over the bed and brushes Killian’s hair back from his forehead, “Come back to me, Killian,” then she leans over and rubs her nose briefly against his as she whispers against his lips, “I love you.” Then she presses her lips to his and immediately feels the same type of magic wash over both of them that washed over her and Henry once before.

              Emma pulls back and smiles as Killian’s eyes flutter open. “Emma,” he breathes, and she can’t stop touching his face, cupping his cheeks, brushing his brow, swiping her thumb across his lips. One last tear falls from her cheek onto his, and she swipes it away, tracing the scar there.

“Love, did you just do what I think you did?” he asks her.

Emma searches his face with her eyes before answering with a soft smile, “You mean wake you up with a true love’s kiss? Yeah.”

The smile he gives her is so broad, it crinkles the skin at the corners of his eyes, and in one swift movement he sits up and pulls her into his lap. His lips are on hers again, and Emma tilts her head and parts her lips for him. His fingers tangle in her hair while her fingers card through his. As she kisses Killian, Emma thinks she hears Neal’s footsteps leave the room.

But she can’t find it in her to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I was having trouble with this chapter, until I decided on when it would take place. Most fics I've read where Emma has to choose between Neal and Killian are set after Neverland but with Pan never casting the curse. So I decided, what if Pan still cast the curse, and Emma still had to leave for a year? What if when she came back to Storybrooke, Neal lived? So, in this story Rumple is still dead because Neal never made the stupid decision to try and bring him back to life. Where did Zelena get a brain then? Don't know. Don't care really; it's an alternate reality for Emma's test, so it doesn't really matter.  
> * My other inspiration for this fic came because I'm currently binge-watching Smallville (you can kind of see that in this chapter). In the episode Fever, Chloe writes a letter about her feelings for Clark and reads it to him while he's sick from Kryptonite dust. It doesn't work out so well for Chloe, but I thought of Emma when Chloe said "because of my fear of emotional intimacy, I can read it and avoid eye contact." So that was my inspiration for that whole scene with the letter. (Personally, my favorite part of the chapter).  
> * Coming up next will be two things: one, we will find out what is going on with Killian and Emma's physical symptoms (which means we'll see Tauriel again). Second, we will start the Graham vs. Killian section. That involves a cursed!Killian storyline, so it will probably take up two chapters. Don't worry, I liked Graham, too. I'm not going to make him a villain or anything. As a matter of fact, he and Killian may just be friends (remember that the harbor master has to work closely with the sheriff's office?). This part of the story I have been looking forward to most of all, so stick with me!  
> *And, above all, thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Here it is, finally, the next chapter!  
> * I'm actually not thrilled with the ending. It feels like it sort of just ends. However, chapter six is going to be even better. So just imagine the words "to be continued" at the close of this chapter. Remember, I said the Graham test would take two chapters because it features cursed Killian. I have read some fantastic cursed Killian stories, so I hope I have given it some fresh twists.  
> * This is the only test that will be told from both Emma's and Killian's point of view.  
> * I purposely have not been re-watching old episodes as I write this fic. That way, I can take the story in a completely fresh direction. So don't expect an episode by episode feel to this cursed Killian section.

              A warm sun filters through the trees, mottling the ground with its light. A soft, pleasant breeze ruffles the leaves, and Henry could swear he hears a sound almost like singing on the wind. If he wasn’t terrified about his mom and Killian, it would be a beautiful day to take Violet on a picnic. He and Belle stop in the same small grove where Tauriel has met them before. This time, they don’t have to wait long before she’s there. And Henry wasn’t hearing things: Tauriel is singing in a foreign tongue. Belle, however, has no patience for the elf. Not today.

              “Your son is dying, you know,” Belle yells at the elf, “and yet here you are traipsing through the woods singing. Do you even care about him?”

              The elf stops singing. “Killian isn’t dying.”

              Henry stomps closer to Tauriel, yelling too, “He started having seizures! They had to put him in a medically induced coma to stop them. What do you call that?”

              “His body is merely responding to the emotional turmoil of the alternate reality that his soul is experiencing. There will be no long-term effects,” Tauriel calmly clasps her hands in front of her, “and how is Emma?”               Belle shakes her head in frustration and rubs her temples before shouting, “What kind of mother are you? Just stop all of this, and your son will be fine!”

              Tauriel dips her head and then whispers sadly, “Once the test has begun, Emma is the only one who can end it.” Tauriel lifts her chin higher, and raises her voice as she continues, “Now answer me, please! What are Emma’s symptoms? Are they the same as my son’s? This is important!”               Henry narrows his eyes as he thinks back over the last couple of days. “Well, first Killian had a really high fever while Mom’s fever dropped really low. Killian was on fire, but mom was freezing. Then, Killian started shaking and mom fell into a coma.”

              Tauriel gives a sigh of relief and a soft smile graces her face, “Good. That’s good. One symptom passed, and then a second –“

              “What do you mean that’s good!?” Henry snaps. “My parents are both in a coma and you say that’s good?”

              “What’s good is that their symptoms are similar in type yet opposite in composition. You see, many people think one of two things. Either that true love means you have everything in common or that opposites attract. Neither is true. People who are truly destined to be together are complimentary. They are able to understand one another in a way no one else can, and yet their differences also fill in one another’s gaps. Where one is weak, the other is strong, and vice versa. Since Killian’s and Emma’s first two sets of symptoms were complimentary, it means they are passing the tests. So far.”

              Tauriel’s body begins to shimmer and fade halfway through her explanation. Henry rushes forward just as Tauriel fades from view. He ends up shouting his last question to empty air.

              “How much longer!”

              Belle rests her hand on Henry’s arm, “It’s okay, Henry. I think your mother has only one more test to go.”

              Realization dawns on Henry’s face as he mulls over Tauriel’s words, “Two sets of symptoms, two tests. And Tauriel said if they were complimentary symptoms, that meant Mom was passing them.”

              Belle nods and smiles, “So your mom has chosen Killian over another twice now. She only has to do so one more time, and she will awaken.”

              Henry nods as Belle turns him back towards town with a friendly arm around his shoulder. But Henry can’t help but worry. Whom has his mom had to choose between? He figures Walsh would be one test, since the man proposed. But that one is a no-brainer. He could always tell his mom wasn’t completely happy with Walsh. It was the reason he had made that wish at the well the day before Killian showed up. He is also sure that his mom will have to choose between Killian and his dad. Has his mom passed that test yet? If not, who else would she have to choose between?

              Henry feels like a traitor to his real dad, but all he can do is pray that his mom chooses Killian no matter what. He doesn’t want to lose another dad.

              *****************************************************************

              Killian Jones stood at the door to his office, looking through the small square window and out at the docks. He took a sip of his coffee as he eyed the boats bobbing lazily in the harbor. Life in Storybrooke seemed quaint and idyllic on the surface; the type of town where a person could settle down to a white-picket fence life and just enjoy the scenery. But Killian has never felt anything but trapped. He narrowed his eyes at the figure headed from the fishing boats to his office carrying a large cooler of fish. He smiled and opened the door, shouting a hello to the dark-haired fisherman in a cable-knit sweater and rubber boots.

              “Eric!” he calls, “Fancy you bringing me fish on this sunny fall afternoon!”

              Eric just grunts as he maneuvers the cooler into Killian’s office. “And the fact that I’ve done it every Friday afternoon that either of us can remember means nothing, huh?”

              Killian chuckles as he sets his coffee mug down on his desk. “So, what do you have for me today?”

              “Cod, mostly. Good sized ones, too. And a couple of striped bass.”

              Killian grinned and rubbed his good hand against his prosthetic, “Great! My mouth is watering already. I’ll take two of each.”

              Eric nodded and transferred the fish to the freezer in Killian’s kitchen. Killian’s bedroom and bath were upstairs, but the kitchen was downstairs adjacent to his office. His friends all wondered how he could feel so content in such close quarters, but to Killian it felt incredibly spacious for some reason. Sometimes too spacious. In the spring and summer, he spent many nights in the captain’s quarters aboard his ship, The Jewel of the Realm. It was a restored 18th century clipper ship that he was immensely proud of. He gave tours to the school children that Mary Margaret Blanchard brought down to the docks. Someday, he wanted to take tourists out on it. If Storybrooke ever got any visitors, that is.

              As Killian was writing a check to Eric for the fish, their friend Graham, sheriff of Storybrooke, sauntered in and plopped down in the chair opposite Killian’s desk. Just as Eric sold him fish every Friday afternoon, Graham always stopped by at approximately the same time every Friday. Graham propped his feet up on Killian’s desk, crossing them at the ankle.

              “How was harbor mastering, old friend?” Graham asked, placing his hands behind his head.

              “How was sheriffing?” Killian quipped in return, knocking Grahams’ boots off his desk and wiping the spot free of mud.

              Graham chuckled. “Spit, polish, and good form. Our naval officer here could never stand the messiness of life in the sheriff’s office.”

              “What messiness?” Eric laughed, cracking open a can of soda he had swiped from Killian’s fridge.

              “He must mean Leroy’s drinking binges and the mayor’s leash around his neck,” Killian laughed. He spun his desk chair towards the back of his office and looked pensively out the tiny rectangular window over the filing cabinet. “Because other than that, his job is as dull as mine. As dull as life always is in Storybrooke.”

              Graham rolled his eyes and groaned as he leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees, “Not this again, Jones.”

              “What?”

              “This whole _my life is meaningless_ crap,” Graham clarified with a dismissive wave of his hand.

              Killian spun back around to face his two best friends. “You’re seriously saying I’m the only one who feels it? We do the same thing day after day. Everybody in this god-forsaken town does. Eric and I take our boats out, but it’s like there’s this invisible line neither of us are willing to cross.”

              Eric chuckled and raised his soda can towards Graham, “Here he goes again with the trip sailing around the world that he never takes.”

              “Exactly!” Killian exclaimed, slapping his good hand down on his desk. “Every time I mean to go, something stops me. It’s like . . . it’s like . . .”

              “It’s like nothing Killian,” Graham interrupted, “you’re just too afraid to take a risk. It’s understandable. After your accident in the navy and losing your brother.”

              Killian frowns as he swivels to look at the picture tacked on his bulletin board. “But that’s just it. I know the facts about all of that, but my memories are . . . hazy. How did I get here? Why Storybrooke?”

              Eric laughed as he pitched the soda can in the trash across the room. “And here’s where he gets all philosophical on us.”

              Graham laughed in agreement and the two men rose from their chairs. Just like every Friday, Graham slapped Killian on the shoulder as he leaned over his desk and said, “Come on, mate. Let’s go get a couple of drinks to wash our worries away.”

                            ********************************************************

              Emma Swan shook her head as she approached her car, trying to shake the uncomfortable feeling left by Regina Mills. Henry was fine; look at the huge mansion he lived in. She had done her part; she had given him a ride home. But her son was better off without her, that’s the whole reason she had given him up to begin with. Time to get back to her life in Boston and let Henry live his.

              Emma groaned as she caught sight of the flat tire on the right passenger side of her bug. She kicked at the thing in frustration, then moved to the trunk at the front. She was perfectly capable of changing a tire, but she really didn’t need this irritation. Not tonight. She pulled the trunk open and pulled out the spare tire. She rested it against the side of her bug and then moved back around to retrieve the tool kit from the trunk. A string of expletives fell from her lips next when she realized the trunk was empty. That moronic self-absorbed one-night stand in the red Miata from three weeks ago – he had her jack and lug wrench.

              “Is the fair damsel in distress?”

              Emma rolled her eyes at the sound of the accented voice, even though he couldn’t see her behind the bug’s open trunk. Great. Now she was getting hit on, too. She closed the trunk, and when she did, it revealed the owner of the British accent. What was with this town and hot guys with accents? First the sheriff, and now this fine specimen of manhood. Because Emma couldn’t deny that the man standing before her took her breath away. His smile was simultaneously adorable and sexy; slightly lopsided, but revealing the cutest dimples. His dark hair was thick and just messy enough to make Emma want to run her fingers through it. His style of dress was similar to Graham’s, actually; button up shirt, leather vest, and leather jacket. But his shirt was unbuttoned to reveal quite a bit of chest hair, and his color scheme was darker than Graham’s. And instead of brown work boots, this man wore black leather boots more suitable to riding a motorcycle than tromping through the forest. But the vehicle still running behind him was a black pick-up truck, not a motorcycle.

              But the thing that arrested Emma the most were his eyes. So bright blue, she actually wondered if they were real. _Eyes like the sea after a storm_. Emma gave her head a slight shake. So he was hot, so what? He was exactly the type of guy who would make a great one-night stand. Not the type of guy to call up schoolgirl fantasies from your favorite movie. And right now, even a one-night stand was the farthest thing from Emma’s mind. She wanted to get out of this freaky town as quickly as possible. If she had to accept help from Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome, so be it.

              Emma crossed her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes, “I’m neither a damsel, nor am I in distress. All I need is to borrow a jack and a lug wrench so I can change my tire.”

              The man winked at her, not in the least offended by her attitude, “I think I can help you out.”

              He reached into the back of his truck and pulled out a tool kit. When he walked back to her bug, Emma reached out to take it, but he turned at the last minute towards the offending tire. He squatted down and placed the jack under the bug.

              “I know how to change a tire,” Emma grumbled.

              “Never said you didn’t, love,” he remarked, smirking up at her.

              Emma rolled her eyes, “And I’m not your love.”

              “Duly noted,” was all he said as he finished jacking up the car and began undoing the flat tire’s bolts with the lug wrench. It was then that Emma noticed that his left hand was a prosthetic covered in a black leather glove.

              “Oh! I didn’t realize you didn’t . . . I mean I didn’t know you . . . let me give you a hand with that,” Emma cringed at her awkward choice of words.

              The man finished with the final bolt and pulled the flat tire free from the car. He turned to her with that thousand-watt grin, “Don’t feel bad, love, I’m used to it,” he stood, pulling a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiping the grease from his good hand by holding it against his side with his prosthetic. He got into Emma’s personal space, but for some reason she was too mesmerized by his voice and his eyes to take a step back. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Believe me, lass, I can do better with one hand what most men do with two.”

              He pulled back and searched her face, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Emma scoffed, “Please, even men with two hands can barely handle me.” Emma was impressed with her composure. Inside, his flirting had her melting into a puddle of mush. And men usually didn’t have that effect on her. She prided herself on it, in fact.

              He took a moment to regard her, eyes raking across her face. She had the strangest urge to grab him and kiss him. And she wouldn’t lie; she was imagining just what he could do with that hand of his. “Help me with the spare, lass.”

              It took her a moment to register what he had just said. Blushing furiously, she moved to maneuver the spare into place. She could tell he was adept at doing things with one hand, but lining up a tire and tightening the bolts was hard, even with two. She held the tire steady as he worked the lug wrench. In no time at all, the spare was in place. They both stood, and the man offered Emma his handkerchief.

              “Um, thanks, Mr. . . “

              “Jones,” he said quickly, offering her his good hand to shake, “Killian Jones.”

              “Emma Swan.”

              She tried to ignore the spark she felt when her hand slipped into his. The whole night had been so bizarre, she was just off her game. That was all. She felt suddenly nervous as she let go of his hand, tucking her hair behind both ears to cover it up. Killian ducked his head bashfully and scratched behind his ear. Did he feel it, too? Because suddenly he didn’t seem like such a cocky flirt.

              “Have you eaten yet?”

              Emma shook her head, surprised at his sudden sincerity. “Uh, yeah, I have. Besides, I need to get on the road.”

              “Oh,” Killian said quickly, clearing his throat, “well, just be sure to get a new tire tomorrow. Spares aren’t really meant for long-term driving.”

              “Yeah,” she said, flashing him a grin as she climbed into the driver’s seat, “I know. Not a damsel in distress, remember?”

              Killian nodded a good-bye, “Right,” then headed back to his truck.

              Emma sighed as she watched him go in her rearview mirror. Why was she suddenly sad that she would probably never see him again?                             *********************************************************

              Emma was just nearing the town line when she noticed it: Henry’s book lying on the passenger’s seat. She shook her head. The kid was good. Obviously the product of her and Neal. Emma leaned over to grab the book as it slid towards the floor board, and when she looked back up, she screamed. There, standing in the middle of the road was a large wolf. Emma turned the wheel to avoid the animal, but yanked harder than she had intended. She then over-corrected, and the bug was spinning sideways. The next thing she saw was the Storybrooke town sign looming up in front of her. There was a crash, her head hit the steering wheel, and everything went black.

              When Emma came too, everything was fuzzy and blurry at the edges. The bug’s headlights were blinking on and off, making Emma’s head pound harder than it already was. She tried to move to feel her head for injuries, but she couldn’t seem to lift her arm. Only then did she realize that two voices were arguing outside the door of her bug, which hung open.

              “I’m telling you right now, Killian, stay out of this! I have my duties as sheriff; they must be carried out.”

              “Bull shit, Graham! This has nothing to do with the law and everything to do with Regina. I don’t know why you do that woman’s every bidding, but it’s gone too far.”

              Emma moaned as Killian reached inside the bug and slipped one arm beneath her and the other behind her back. When she realized he was about to pull her out and carry her, she attempted feebly to resist, but the world was still spinning around her.

              “Easy,” he told her gently, “I’ve got you.”

              He lifted her out as if she weighed nothing.

              “I have to take her to the sheriff’s station, Killian. She’s drunk and destroyed town property.”

              “She was in a car accident and needs to go to the hospital.”

              Emma opened her mouth so she could yell at both men to shut up, but nothing would come out except a whimper. Her head felt like it might explode, and she kept her eyes shut tightly against the glare of headlights. She was being jostled slightly in Killian’s arms, so she assumed he was carrying her away from her bug. The next thing she knew, he was depositing her on a bench seat. She opened her eyes enough to make out his black truck from earlier. Again, she tried to resist, but Killian’s gentle hand nudged her to lie down in the cab of his truck. She was too disoriented to resist.

              Killian and Graham were arguing again, but their words were muffled now. Then Killian was closing the door of his truck, and the sound felt like a gun going off. Emma moaned and reached out into space with her hand as she felt the world sway. She just needed something to ground her. Suddenly, she came into contact with cool leather. It felt like a hand. Oh, right. Killian’s prosthetic. She clung to it like a lifeline and plunged head long into black sleep.

                             ***************************************************

              When Emma opened her eyes again, the light was unnaturally bright and there were beeping sound all around her. She lifted her hand to feel the bump on her head, only to discover she was hooked up to an IV. She looked around, and gasped slightly at the sight of Killian slumped in the chair by her bed. The sound of her moving wakened him, and he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

              “Well, hello again,” he greeted her with a warm smile, “do you remember anything?”

              Emma furrowed her brow, “There was a wolf in the road. I swerved to avoid it, and I guess I lost control.”

              “A wolf?” a skeptical voice said from the doorway, “In Storybrooke?”

              Emma turned to see Graham standing there. Despite his words, he was regarding her with a mixture of kindness and relief. His curly brown hair fell across his forehead as he regarded her with his dark blue eyes. She looked from first one man to the other.

              “You were both there last night when I had the accident. Why?”

              Graham cleared his throat nervously as he walked closer to her bedside. “I apologize ma’am, but the mayor was concerned for her son’s welfare and asked me to follow you. To be sure you actually left town.”

              “And after I helped you with your tire, I saw Graham follow you,” Killian said the words to Emma, but his eyes were glaring at Graham, “Since that’s _weird,_ I followed you both.”

              Frankly, Emma thought both men were acting a little strange. This whole town was strange. But for now, she focused on Graham. “I overheard you two arguing. You were going to arrest me.”

              “Your blood alcohol level was high and you damaged town property.”

              The kindness seemed to drain from Graham’s eyes as he spoke the words flatly.

              “That’s ridiculous!” Emma argued. “The mayor gave me _one_ glass of spiked cider. I didn’t even finish it!”

              “I can vouch for her, mate,” Killian put in, “she was completely sober when I helped her change that tire.”

              Graham crossed his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes at Emma, “Fine, then. You still have to pay for the damages to the town sign. And, I think it would be best if you left town as soon as possible.”

              “Graham!”

              Emma lifted her hand to silence Killian, “Fine with me. As soon as my car is fixed, I’ll be getting the hell out of this Twilight Zone.”

“Emma!” a voice cried, and a blur of brown hair came running into the room, “Are you okay?” “Yeah, kid, I’m fine. How’d you know I was here?” “Killian, told me,” Henry said casually. “Hey, Killian! Hey, Graham!”

The two men greeted Henry with obvious fatherly affection, and it made Emma relieved that her son had male role models in his life.

“Dr. Whale said she has a mild concussion, but she’ll be free to go in an hour or two.” Killian told Henry.

“That’s a relief,” Henry said, swinging his book bag onto the end of Emma’s hospital bed and hopping up himself. “Guess you’re gonna have to stay awhile longer, though, huh?”

Emma crossed her arms across her chest, “Yeah, by the way, real convenient kid that you left your book in my car. Did you send the wolf, too?”

A wolf! Awesome!”

Graham laughed, “She was probably seeing things, lad.”

“Not necessarily,” Killian argued, “stranger things have happened in this town.”         Emma raised her brows at him in surprise as he rose from the uncomfortable hospital chair. She also couldn’t believe he stayed all night. He ruffled Henry’s hair, which made the boy grin. “Well, I’ll be going, Swan. Henry here will look after you.”

Henry beamed up at Kilian with obvious pride, and both Killian and Graham took their leave.

“So you know both of them well?” Emma asked.

“Yeah,” Henry said with a shrug, “they both work with my mom. Graham is sheriff and Kilian is harbor master. I also like the docks and stuff, and Killian lets me hang out on his ship. Even though my mom doesn’t like it.”

“His ship?”

“Yeah, it’ super cool. It’s a pirate ship.”

Emma raised her eyebrows, “Really?” “Yeah, but he doesn’t know that.”

“Oh right,” Emma said, nodding and playing along, “because he’s a fairy tale character and doesn’t know it. So who is he?”

Henry rolled his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? He’s Captain Hook.”

              ************************************************

Killian was antsy again. Actually, now more than ever. Something had fundamentally changed when Emma Swan came into town. Yes, she was beautiful. And captivating. And bloody brilliant. Amazing. Okay, so he was completely smitten.

But it was more than that. For some reason, meeting her felt like destiny. As if his whole life had been moving him towards this point in time. He knew it sounded melodramatic. He knew it sounded sappy and romantic. But he just couldn’t shake the feeling.

If only Emma would give him the time of day. Oh, she didn’t mind flirtatious banter when their paths crossed. But he had never met a woman so closed off. Her walls were incredibly high. He just had to figure out to tear them down. But it had to be done gently, and on her terms. Hell, she was the most skittish creature he had ever encountered.

There was a knock on his door, and Killian was surprised to see Eric coming into his office with a cooler of fish. Killian cocked an eyebrow at his friend.

“It isn’t Friday.”

Eric shrugged, “I know, but I had a great haul this morning. Fish is just as good on Tuesday, right?”

“Absolutely!” Killian said with a smile. He accepted a few pounds of mackerel and Eric moved to the kitchen to put it away for him. Things like this had been happening since Emma Swan arrived; people were breaking their routines. He had noticed a change, in Graham, too. He had always felt empty in his relationship with Regina, but for the first time, he was actually pushing against it. Contemplating the possibility of something better. Unfortunately, Kilian worried that the “something better” was Emma Swan. Graham was like a brother to him, and the last thing he wanted was a woman to get between them. Yet, Emma Swan was more than just a woman . . .

Killian startled as the lovely vision herself breezed through the door, Graham following close behind her. Dark liquid sloshed over the lip of the coffee cup in his hand, and Killian hastily wiped it up with his handkerchief before rising to his feet to greet Swan.

“Killian,” Graham announced proudly, “I’d like to introduce our new deputy.”

Killian’s grin broadened as he shook Emma’s hand, “That’s fantastic, Swan! You’ll do a great job. You’re bloody brilliant, love.”

Emma blushed slightly and ducked her head, “Well, don’t get too excited. It’s not like this town is a hotbed of crime or anything.”

Killian took note of her discomfort. It seemed Emma Swan was used to people complimenting her looks, but not necessarily her skills.

“Well,” Graham said, “I wanted to show Emma where your office was, since we have to work closely with you from time to time.”

“Yeah,” Killian chuckled, “organizing the big Memorial Day festivities. Real taxing.”

He wiggled his eyebrows, which elicited a chuckle from Emma, to his delight. He glanced at Graham, to see his friend scowling a bit.

“Well, Emma, let’s get going,” Graham said abruptly, steering Emma out of Killian’s office with a hand to the small of her back, “I need to take you out on patrol.”

Emma’s and Graham’s voices drifted away as they left, and Killian frowned as Emma’s laughter floated back to him on the breeze.

“Well, this is just great,” Eric grumbled from the doorway of the kitchen.

“What?”

“You both like her, that’s what. Which means I’ll be stuck in the middle.”

Killian crossed his arms over his chest, “What are you talking about?”

Eric rolled his eyes, “Please, Killian, you wiggling your eyebrows at her and falling all over yourself to compliment her. And Graham announcing she was deputy like she’s his protégé. And did you see him put his hand on her back?”

Killian groaned as he collapsed into his chair, putting a hand to his eyes, “You really think Graham likes her that much?”

“Like I said, it’s obvious,” Eric said with a shrug, “so just wait until Mayor Mills picks up on it.”

Eric’s words were like a bucket of cold water. Regina Mills acted as if she owned Graham. Always had. Emma Swan was already in her crosshairs over Henry. Killian shuddered to think of the mayor’s wrath if Emma started vying for Graham’s affections.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Happy Valentine's Day! While everyone else is writing Valentine fics, I give you a new chapter :)  
> * The Graham test is not wrapped up in this chapter (sorry!), which means this entire story will be 8 chapters long instead of 7. I got to this point and thought it was a perfect cliffhanger ending for a chapter (sorry again?).  
> * I mention sailing to Tallahassee, and I know, the coast of Florida is two hours away from Tallahassee. But that's not the point (you'll see what I mean when you read the chapter). Just wanted to make it clear that I do know geography, lol!  
> * There's a tiny reference to The Little Mermaid. I'm interested to see if any of you pick up on it!

                             Killian looked up from the rope he was tying off as he docked the Jewel in Storybrooke harbor. The sun was beginning to set, and Emma Swan stood in its warm light, leaning against the railing of the Jewel’s deck, looking out to sea. The light gave her golden hair an ethereal glow, and his heart constricted in his chest at the sight. He was distracted from the beautiful vision she created by the sound of Henry bounding down the gangplank.

              “Thanks for taking me and Emma sailing,” he enthused, barely pausing as he raced past, “gotta get home before mom starts looking for me!”

              “You’re welcome, lad!” Killian called after him.

              Killian turned to see Emma in the exact same spot as before. The sun had continued its descent, wreathing Emma’s silhouette in amber light. He didn’t think he’d ever met a woman so beautiful. He silently came to stand beside her, mirroring her stance, elbows leaning against the railing. Killian clasped the prosthetic hook he wore when sailing but quickly let it go. It was amazing the times he still forgot his left hand was missing. It had also been a long time since he’d been nervous about someone seeing him with the hardware instead of his plastic cosmetic hand. Emma, however, had taken it in stride.

              “Not a very intimidating hook, _Captain_ ,” she had quipped when first coming on board.

              “I see you’ve been listening to Henry’s tall tales,” he had chuckled in reply.

              “It’s not a tall tale!” Henry had argued, sounding genuinely hurt.

              “You’re right, my lad,” Killian had quickly added with a clap to Henry’s back, “when this curse breaks, I’ll have a large, shiny curve of steel to strike fear into my enemies.”

              Henry had beamed up at him as he ruffled the boy’s hair, and Emma had mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ to Killian for playing along.               Now, Emma sighed in contentment as she watched the colors of the sunset splash across the surface of the water. She then turned around, leaning her back against the railing.

              “I have to confess, you were right,” she finally said to him, “a day on the water was incredibly relaxing.” She looked up at him with the most sincere expression he’d seen on her face yet. “Thank you, Killian.”

              He ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He’d never been bashful around women. Until now. “You’re welcome, Swan. Anytime.”

              Emma made no move to leave, for which he was grateful. He watched her as she tilted her head back to drink up the last rays of sun, her eyes closed. The desire to kiss her was never far from his mind, but he instinctually knew better. Whatever they became, he must let her take the lead. As much as it killed him sometimes. Over the past few weeks, a friendship had been forming between them, punctuated with occasional flirting. Not that he could read too much into that; her relationship with Graham was pretty much the same.

              Killian licked his lips nervously before deciding to fish a little bit. “It’s funny, isn’t it?”

              Emma furrowed her brow. “What is?”

              “When I first met you, you were so adamant about leaving. Now here you are, almost two months later, with a job and an apartment.”

              Emma snorted and rolled her eyes, “Crashing with Mary Margaret, you mean. And a girl’s gotta make a living, you know.” She fell silent a moment, concern creasing her brow. “I can’t leave until I’m sure Henry is okay. I still don’t trust Regina.”

              Killian noted that she said “I can’t leave” instead of “I have to stay.” He sensed her hesitancy to put down roots, and thinks he knows why. She had confided in him that she was in foster care. Well, confided was a strong word. She had mentioned it, really, almost casually with no elaboration. Still, he could imagine a young Emma Swan with a small bag packed and ready to go when the day inevitability came that she had to leave. For some reason, his soul responded to the feeling. He couldn’t remember his own childhood, a fact that had always bothered him, but he did know Liam was all he ever had. He knew what it was to be alone in the world.

              “Storybrooke isn’t growing on you?” he finally asked, masking his strong desire for her to stay with a humorous tone.

              Emma gave a wry chuckle, “Granny makes a good grilled cheese.”

              “And your son is here.” When Emma nodded with a tiny smile on her face, he felt emboldened to continue, “And you have friends. Like Mary Margaret . . .”

              “And let me guess . . . you?”

              The smile Emma was giving him was mostly one of challenge, but there was a hint of flirtatious sass, too, so he slid a bit closer and gave her his cockiest grin, “Aye, and me.” He searched her eyes with deep sincerity, swallowed hard, and added, “And Graham?”

              Emma turned and looked back out to sea, a smile playing across her face that he couldn’t decipher. “Yes, Graham is a good friend, too.”

              Killian didn’t quite know how to respond, so he allowed a companionable silence to fall between them. He wanted Emma to feel at home here, and Graham _was_ a good man. How long had he wanted his best friend to be free of Regina and truly happy? And yet here he was, envious of the time Graham got to spend as sheriff with his lovely deputy. Emma seemed at ease watching the sun slip below the horizon, completely oblivious to his conflicting and often selfish emotions. When twilight finally faded to dusk, Emma took a deep breath and tapped her hands on the railing.

              “I should be getting back to the loft.”

              Killian nodded and watched as she headed down the gangplank. When she reached the bottom, she turned to look up at him with a teasing smile.

              “To answer your question, yes, Storybrooke is growing on me.”

              _Bloody hell_ , he thought as he watched her walk away, _does she know she’s slowly killing me?_

                            ********************************************************

              The sun was warm on Killian’s back as he leaned over the railing on the main deck of the Jewel. He had noticed yesterday when Emma had leaned against it that a few spots needed sanding and polishing. Eric and Graham teased him about the constant care he showed the old girl, but she wasn’t just a ship. She was a piece of history, and he didn’t intend to neglect her. He also didn’t want the lovely Swan to get a splinter the next time she was here, either.

              He stood and wiped his arm across his sweaty brow. He had shed his jacket and button down and was working under the unseasonably warm October sun in just his white undershirt. As he lifted a bottle of water to his lips, he saw an agitated Emma Swan walking quickly up the gangplank. He strode quickly to meet her as she stepped on deck. Her face was flushed and lined with worry, and her lower lip trembled slightly as she tucked it between her teeth.

              “What’s wrong, Emma?”

              “It’s Graham,” she blurted out, and his heart lurched, “something’s wrong with him.”

              “What do you mean?”

              Emma began pacing, her hands on her hips. “I guess it all started last night when I caught him sneaking out of Regina’s.”

              “He’s still seeing her?” Killian asked in surprise. Graham hadn’t specifically said he had cut things off with the mayor, but watching him with Emma, Killian had assumed . . .

              “You mean you knew?”

              The hurt on Emma’s face cut like a knife. She must have feelings for Graham if his trysts with Regina have upset her this much. “I’m sorry, Emma. It just wasn’t my place to say anything. Besides, he seemed interested in you, so I assumed he had ended it. He was never really happy with her, anyway. I could never understand why he always came running when she called.”

              Emma gave a wry laugh, “Apparently neither does Graham. He told me he couldn’t feel anything with Regina, and . . . he kissed me.”

              “He kissed you?” Killian asked, voice low. He wasn’t angry. How could he be? He’d asked nothing of Emma nor had he made his feelings clear. Still, the thought of Graham kissing her was like a punch in the gut.

              Emma’s face blushed prettily, and he had the sudden desire to be the one who could make her blush, not Graham. “It was so strange, Killian. He just kissed me out of nowhere, right there on main street. It wasn’t much of a kiss. I was so shocked, I pushed him away. He was rambling on about needing to feel something again, and that I was the only one who could help him.”

              “He likes you, Emma,” Killian admitted softly.

              Emma shook her head, “You don’t understand, Killian, something is wrong with him. I found him again just now. He thinks his heart is missing, and he’s burning up with fever. And then . . . there was a wolf.”

              Emma had inched closer to him as she spoke, and in her agitation had reached out to clutch his arm, “A wolf, Killian, just like when I wrecked my car. But Graham acted like he _knew_ this wolf, even tried to chase after it.”

              “And then what happened?” Killian tried to steady his breathing, but suddenly he felt dizzy, and it wasn’t just from Emma’s close proximity. Something about Graham’s story rang true, and for some strange reason the thought _Regina has Graham’s heart_ was repeating on a warning loop in his head.

              “The wolf just disappeared . . . or ran away. And so did Graham, mumbling something about Henry’s book.”

              Emma’s sea green eyes were gazing intensely into his, and he swallowed hard. He shouldn’t be getting lost in Emma’s eyes when his best friend was possibly sick and delirious. He shut his eyes tight for a moment to collect his thoughts. He felt Emma take a step closer and place her hand on his chest.

              “Emma,” he whispered hoarsely before opening his eyes, “why did you come to me?”

              “You’re Graham’s friend . . .” she whispered back, but her voice trailed off as if she had lost her train of thought.

              “Yes,” Killian whispered back.

              Emma reached up and traced a trembling finger across his jaw, “You both like me.”

              “Yes.” This was wrong. They were supposed to be helping Graham.

              Emma’s eyes darted to his lips, and Killian wasn’t sure who moved first, but then they were kissing. Emma fisted her hands in the fabric of his shirt as her mouth slanted hungrily over his. He kissed her back with equal fervor, the feel of her soft lips everything he had dreamed of and more. But suddenly, images flashed through his mind: storms at sea, a flying ship, dreamshade poison, the Crocodile, his hook. His hook! Killian stumbled backwards.

              “I remember!” he gasped.

              He looked down at the blunted double hooks at the end if his wrist and knew now the sharp weapon that was supposed to reside there. Henry had been right all along – he’s Captain Hook! He looked up at Emma: beautiful, strong, and good, and he suddenly remembered that, too. Princess Emma, the child who would one day break the curse. And he’s a villain. How dare he presume to touch such a creature?

              “Emma, I . . . I’m sorry . . . I’m not . . .”

              Emma’s face crumpled as he recoiled from her, “It was a mistake. I get it.” She wrapped her arms around herself and backed away from him, and his heart broke. She completely misunderstood. She thought he regretted the kiss, that he didn’t want her. And God forgive him, he can’t let her think that.

              “Emma,” he breathed, and though he knew he didn’t deserve her, had no right to even think of her, he pulled her close anyway. He kissed her with all the passion he’d been holding back, kissed her with all he was, both pirate and harbor master. He pulled away and cupped her face in his hands. He wanted to tell her the truth about everything: who he really was, who Graham was, what Storybrooke really was, but he couldn’t. She would think he was crazy. Just like she thought Henry and Graham were crazy. But he had to try and warn her about Regina. The evil queen may not have magic in this realm, but Killian knew what she was capable of.

              “Emma,” he said again, pressing his forehead to hers, “Graham will be fine. But please, be careful. Regina is dangerous.”

              Emma furrowed her brows and ran her thumbs across his cheeks, cradling his neck. “Killian, are you alright? You’re trembling.”

              He gave her a false smile, hoping she didn’t pick up on his lie, “Just fine, love.”

              Emma searched his face, and if she saw the lie, she didn’t call him out on it. Killian took a step back, sliding his good hand down her arm and threading his fingers with hers.

              “Go to Graham and try to convince him to see a doctor.”

              “He’ll listen to you before he’ll listen to me,” Emma argued.

              Killian shook his head. Unlike him, Graham didn’t have all of his memories back yet, perhaps because Emma had broken off his kiss, but he had some of them. Perhaps enough to know who Killian was and that he had worked for the Evil Queen. “Trust me, Emma, it’s better that you go. The sooner the better. I have something I need to take care of.”

              Emma gave him a long look, tilting her head again as she studied him. Killian flashed her a smile and squeezed her hand. Emma gave him a tremulous smile back and turned to go. Killian held fast to her hand, pulling her back around to face him.

              “Promise me you’ll watch out for Regina. Don’t be alone with her.”

              “Killian, you’re being weird –“

              “Promise me.” He pulled her in for a quick, fierce kiss to punctuate his point.

              “Okay,” Emma breathed, “I promise.” Only then did he let go of her hand. She hurried down the gangplank and across the boardwalk, glancing back at where he stood on the Jewel – no, the Jolly Roger – watching until she was out of sight.

              Neither of them noticed the dark figure watching from the shadows.

                             *************************************************

              Killian growled under his breath, his current frustration closer to Captain Hook, vengeful and villainous pirate that the charming and flirtatious yet unsatisfied harbor master, Killian Jones. He sent maps and pencils flying to the floor as he cleared his desk in a fit of temper. He pounded his good hand down on the wood and took deep breaths to calm himself. God knows he couldn’t let Emma see him like this.

              “It’s in a hidden compartment under the bottom shelf of your bookcase.”

              Killian started at the sound of Regina’s voice in the doorway of the captain’s quarters. He met the queen’s eyes with what he hoped looked like surprise and confusion.

              “What are you doing here, Regina?”

              Mayor Mills walked closer with cool confidence. It was a demeanor that intimidated most, but not Killian. Even under the curse, she had never intimidated him. At least not on the outside. He wasn’t foolish enough to underestimate her, though.

              “You’re tearing your quarters apart looking for something, _Captain_. I merely thought I could be of assistance,” she said almost casually, her fingers sliding over an antique globe. She gave it a spin and looked straight at Killian with a wicked smile. _She knew_. Killian wasn’t sure how, but she knew he had his memories back.

              “What are you talking about?”

              Regina made her way around his desk, sidling up close to him just as she had as the Evil Queen. But Killian was no longer willing to be her boy toy, and he couldn’t stop himself from visibly flinching as she slid her perfectly manicured fingers down the expanse of chest hair exposed by the v-neck of his t-shirt. “Your hook, Captain.”

              Killian wasn’t sure how long he should keep up the charade. “If you’re talking about my hardware, I’m wearing it.”

              Regina narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, then schooled her expression. He could practically see the wheels turning in her mind as she changed tactics, “Well, whatever you were looking for, just thought I’d help. And let you know I haven’t forgotten our agreement. I was just over by Gold’s shop; he’s there alone.”

              “Okay,” Killian hedged, unsure where she was going with this. It wasn’t until he saw a flash of understanding in Regina’s eyes that he realized his mistake. Gold was the Crocodile. He had completely forgotten. All he could think about was protecting Emma.

              A slow smile spread across Regina’s face, but she still played coy, “Well, then, I’ll leave you to your searching. I have one of my _special_ apple turnovers to deliver to Ms. Swan. A belated welcome gift, if you will.”

              Pure instinct, as old as his centuries of life, took over in that moment. He backhanded Regina, then spun away, snatching his hook from his hiding place. By the time Regina had managed to stumble back to her feet, he already had the steel attachment clicked into place. He hauled Regina to her feet and slammed her against the far wall, his hook at her throat.

              “You have no magic in this realm, _your majesty_ , but my hook draws blood just fine,” Killian growled.

              Despite her split lip, Regina grinned at him, “You don’t even care about your revenge any more, do you? You only care about _her_. Well, get in line, Romeo because she’s bewitched Graham, too.”

              “How did you know I had my memories back?”

              “I saw her kiss you, and I know how Graham’s been acting since she kissed him. And the wind carries, pirate. I saw you stumble backwards; I heard what you said.”

              “You can’t stop her, Regina. She’s already weakened the curse; it’s only a matter of time before she breaks it.”

              Regina’s eyes widened at the passion of his words, and then she started laughing. Killian was so taken aback, he released his hold on her. Regina doubled over, holding her side as she continued to laugh.

              “What’s so bloody funny?”

              Regina’s laughter almost instantly shifted to a scowl of disdain. “You may be in love with her, Captain Guyliner, but you can’t seriously think you’ll get a happy ending. You have just as much at stake here as I do. Only with the curse firmly in place can you get what you want.”

              “What are you talking about?”

              “It’s _never_ going to happen, Hook. You and Emma Swan? The daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming? If the curse breaks, she and her perfect little family will have your black heart locked up in a cell right next to mine.”

              Regina sauntered close to Killian again and caressed his hook with her fingertips just as she had so long ago, “I’m sure we can come to an agreement that’s mutually beneficial.”

              Clenching his jaw, Killian spat, “Get out!”

              Regina gave one last sadistic laugh as she left his quarters. As soon as she was gone, he exhaled a shaky breath and steadied his trembling arms on his desk. Regina was right; he knew she was. But it was too late; he was too far gone. He loved Emma, and he would see her reunited with her parents. Even if it meant he lost her forever.

                            ******************************************************

              Regina snarled in barely concealed anger as she pushed the tomb aside to enter her vault. She stomped down the stairs and started searching through her bits and pieces of magical items and potions with jerky, shaky movements. Her hands shook in rage, causing the little bottles of potion to rattle. Killian Jones had been a thorn in her side for years, making her wish she had never brought him along with the curse. Ensuring the Jolly Roger and his hook made their way to Storybrooke intact were slight irritations compared to the man’s seeming inability to cooperate with the curse. He was constantly sowing seeds of discontent in Graham and ones of fancy and hope in Henry, thanks to that blasted ship. Then, about a decade ago, he had actually attempted to _sail away_. She had been forced to use a spell down in her vault to stop him, and yet his ship had still almost made it through the magical barrier she had thrown up a few miles out of the harbor. Tallahassee. Regina snorted. The man had planned to sail down the coast and around the tip of Florida to Tallahassee.

              Regina froze as her hand gripped an amber bottle. Tallahassee. The city Emma Swan had stayed in the longest. She mentally went over the list of places Ms. Swan had lived and felt the blood drain from her head as she realized it was the exact same list of places Killian Jones had attempted to sail away to over the past ten years. It couldn’t be. Surely it was just a coincidence . . .

              Regina uncorked the bottle and shook it onto the stained blouse Emma Swan had accidentally left in the washing machine at Granny’s. This spell would give her the answer she needed. The blouse began to float up the stairs and Regina followed after it. The blouse led her out of town, and the closer Regina got to the docks, the more her head thrummed with rage. The blouse floated out to the water and skimmed across the surface, the potion on it seeking out the owner’s true love. It hit the side of the Jolly Roger, which was heading out to sea, and seemed to cling to its hull.

              Despite the panicked thoughts spinning through Regina’s mind, she couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled up from her throat. Emma Swan’s true love was Captain Hook! Mommy and Daddy were going to _love_ that. All these years, Regina thought it had been the enchanted wood that the Jolly Roger was made of that caused it to fight against her barriers. Regina inwardly startled. Enchanted wood? Just like Emma’s wardrobe. The irony was just too much.

              But Regina still had time. Emma’s kiss hadn’t broken the curse, only restored Killian’s memories. The one-handed wonder may already be a lovesick puppy, but he hadn’t won Ms. Swan’s heart. Yet. The pirate had to die, simple as that.

              Regina’s eyes narrowed as a wicked smile spread across her face. The pirate had to die, and Regina knew just the person to do the deed.

              Love triangles could be so messy.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * My muse is really pushing me to finish this story, so here is another chapter! Two days in a row! (Don't get used to it, lol)  
> * The next chapter will be a bit of a prologue, and thus pretty short. However it is all about Killian's mother and his relationship with her, and I have been looking forward to sharing it with you this whole time.  
> * No one mentioned the little mermaid reference in the last chapter. It was when Regina said "Mommy and Daddy are gonna love that" about Captain Hook being Emma's true love. Just like Ursula saying "Daddy's gonna love that" about Ariel falling in love with a human. Too subtle?

              David walks into the hospital room at Storybrooke General and smiles at the sight before him. Not many men would smile seeing their wife holding another man’s hand, but in this case he knows it’s a mothering gesture. Snow sits in one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs, her head resting on one hand as she dozes. Her other hand rests in the limp hand of Killian Jones. She and David have been taking turns spending the night at the hospital.

              David walks gingerly to Snow’s side and gently nudges her shoulder. Snow’s eyes flutter open and brighten when she sees her husband.

              “David,” she mumbles, “is it morning already?”

              “Yes,” David whispers, “and I brought you coffee.”

              Snow straightens, withdrawing her hand from Killian’s to cup the coffee in both hands. She gestures to his still form after taking a sip, “It occurred to me last night that his mother won’t be coming to see him.” She shrugs as she tilts her head back to look up at her husband. “Is that silly?”

              “No,” David tells her with a smile, “and it’s one of the reasons I love you.” He then walks around to the other bed in the room. He leans over Emma’s still form, brushing her hair out of her face. “Any change?”

              “After Belle and Henry brought the latest news from Tauriel yesterday, they brought Killian out of the medically-induced coma. They didn’t want anything hindering him from waking up once the curse broke.”

              David shakes his head, “It’s a challenge practicing medicine in Storybrooke. How is he?”

              Snow shrugs, “Sleeping. Cursed sleeping.”

              “And Emma?”

              “No change. She’s still in a coma.”

              David starts as Emma’s hand moves under his. “Are they sure about that?”

                            ******************************************************

              Killian’s fingers tightened around the ship’s wheel as he braced for impact against Regina’s magical barrier. Under the curse, he hadn’t known what prevented him from sailing away, but now he did, and with his newfound knowledge, he was pretty sure he could pinpoint the curse’s invisible nautical border.

              Sure enough, the Jolly Roger’s enchanted wood strained and groaned as it met the unseen barrier, but if Killian wasn’t mistaken, there was a barely perceptible shimmer dancing along a translucent wall in front of him. It was definitely a magical barrier. Regina herself plainly no longer bodily possessed magic, or she would have incinerated him with one of her fireballs upon learning that his memories returned. But it was also clear she had brought along a few potions or magical objects from the Enchanted Forest.

              Killian jumped down to the main deck and made his way quickly to the mast. He unfurled another sail and moved the position of another to catch more wind and pick up speed. He whispered loving encouragement to his ship as she groaned beneath him. The magical barrier crackled and seemed to bend, but the Jolly strained and then listed to the side. Killian leapt back behind the wheel and turned her about, the side of the ship scraping against magical sparks along the edges of the curse.

              Nevertheless, Killian smiled as he made his way back to Storybrooke harbor. The curse was weakening more than Regina even realized. His Emma would win. He didn’t doubt it in the slightest.

              Even if it meant losing his happy ending, he couldn’t wait to see Swan’s triumph.

                            *****************************************************

              Granny eyed Emma critically as she handed her a to-go cup of coffee, and Emma mumbled a _sorry, thank you_. Emma knew she was distracted. What woman wouldn’t be after kissing two attractive men in the same day? Two men who also happened to be the best of friends. Emma rubbed her forehead wearily. How did she manage to get herself into these situations?

              She knew, pretty much from the start, that both Graham and Killian were interested in her. And while she would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the attention, she had never entertained the idea of actually pursuing anything with either of them. Even a one-night stand was out of the question because a) she wasn’t that selfish to put a wedge between two friends and b) she had to work closely with both of them which sort of defeated the purpose of Emma’s nameless, no strings attached style. So she contented herself with casual friendship and flirting with both of them. And, honestly, it had come to mean a great deal to her. Friends had been extremely rare in her life, and Killian had been right. Here in Storybrooke she had made three very good ones. As odd as Storybrooke was, she had never fit in so easily anywhere in her life. As if all her life she had been a sojourner and _now_ she had found her people.

              Then yesterday everything had blown up in her face. First Graham had to go and kiss her, blowing holes in their comfortable friendship. And then Emma had apparently lost her mind and kissed Killian. _Actually, you kissed three times_ her traitorous mind corrected. And she hadn’t slept all night replaying each second of each of those kisses over and over in her mind. She remembered that line from _Gone With the Wind_ : “You should be kissed and often and by someone who knows how.” Well, call her Scarlett, because that was exactly how Killian Jones kissed. And what that might mean for Emma had her absolutely terrified.

              Emma’s thoughts were interrupted when her cell phone rang. When she saw who it was, she answered with frustration, “Graham! You’re supposed to be taking a sick day. Why are you calling me?”

              Emma had found Graham wandering the cemetery last night. It had taken her hours after leaving Killian’s ship to track him down. Thankfully, Graham had allowed Emma to drive him home, agreeing to go straight to bed and stay there until his fever passed. He also promised Emma he would call a doctor to check out his heart. She had wanted to take him straight to the ER, but he had practically panicked at the suggestion claiming they would lock him up in the basement like Belle. Emma hadn’t even asked who Belle was, worried it might send him over the edge.

              “I have to go back to the cemetery. I can prove to you I’m not crazy, Emma.”

              “I never said you were crazy,” Emma said gently.

              “I could see it in your eyes,” Graham argued in a broken voice, “please, Emma. Meet me in the cemetery. I’ll see you there.”

              Before Emma could form a response, he hung up. Emma’s gut told her that Graham was in trouble, so she pocketed her phone, tossed her almost-full coffee cup in a nearby trashcan, and raced around the corner for the cemetery.

              “Graham?” she called out when she arrived.

              “Swan?”

              Emma spun around and was surprised to see Killian standing there. Emma narrowed her eyes in confusion and crossed her arms across her chest. “Killian? What are you doing here?”

              “I called him,” said a third voice.

              Emma was shocked when she saw Graham emerge from the trees over Killian’s right shoulder. He was pointing a gun at his best friend with a shaking hand. The morning sun shone on Graham’s brown hair, which was drenched with sweat. His face was flushed, his eyes glassy, and his lips trembled as he spoke.

              “You’re supposed to be my best friend. You were always encouraging me to break it off with Regina. To find someone better. But when I do, you steal her away from me.”

              Killian stepped cautiously forward.

              “Killian,” Emma said softly, reaching out for his arm.

              “See!” Graham said wildly, “It’s you she cares about!” He cocked the gun.

              Killian stopped, and Emma slid closer to him. She wanted to clasp his hand, but she was afraid it might set Graham off. He was clearly still feverish and delirious; this wasn’t him at all.

              Killian raised his arms in a gesture of surrender. “You’re right, Graham. We’re best friends. And that’s how I know you don’t want to do this. Regina is making you.”

              Emma could see Graham’s brow furrow in confusion, could see his hesitation as his arm holding the gun wavered.

              “It isn’t your fault,” Killian continued in a voice so sincere, even Emma believed him. “Regina has your heart.”

              Graham’s eyes filled up with tears as he nodded, “Yes, she does. And you’re right. I don’t want to do this.” There was a pregnant pause, and then to Emma’s horror, Graham raised the gun once again, “I’m sorry.”

              Shots rang out, and Emma reacted without thinking, yanking Killian backwards and throwing herself in front of him. Emma’s body convulsed as the bullets made their impact, and she fell forward into Killian’s arms.

                            ************************************************************

              “No!” Killian cried as Emma crumpled forward into his arms. His heart felt such sharp pain, he thought at first a bullet had gotten him, too. But then he recognized the pain as the same instant heartbreak he felt when Milah died in his arms.

He lowered Emma to the ground as carefully as he could. He removed his jacket and held it to her back where the bullets had entered, but it was like trying to plug a dam with a handkerchief. Blood seeped out of Emma in a dark, sticky, ever widening pool on the ground.

“Oh God,” Graham whispered, dropping the gun. He grasped his hair in both hands and staggered away from the gruesome scene. “What have I done? Emma!” Graham dropped to his knees, weeping in agony.

Tears streamed down Killian’s own face as he clutched Emma’s broken body to his chest, “Stay with me, Emma, please.” This couldn’t be happening. Not again.

Emma reached a shaky hand up and traced Killian’s jaw in a way that was painfully familiar. It _was_ happening again, and once again he was powerless to stop it.

“Killian,” Emma gasped, clearly struggling to speak, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Killian choked out. He had missed his chance the last time, he wouldn’t do it again.

Emma convulsed again, but managed to whisper, “I choose you, Killian. I will always choose you.”

Emma’s eyes fluttered closed, and Killian threw his head back and wailed with grief.

              ********************************************************

As soon as the words _I love you_ slipped past Emma’s lips, she knew. None of this was real. She saw all of it: a kiss in the jungle, a time portal, a field of roses, a blue house with a white picket fence. She had to tell him; had to make sure he knew so they could both get back there. To what was real.

She almost panicked, feeling her life slip away, but she got the words out. _I choose you, Killian. I will always choose you._ And then blinding bright light engulfed her.

              **********************************************************

With a loud, surging gasp, Emma sits bolt upright on the hospital bed. Her parents and Henry rush to her, but she pushes them away as she yanks out IVs and rips monitoring devices off her body. The bed next to hers is surrounded by a crowd of medical staff shouting orders. The heart monitors scream the sound of flat lining. Emma pushes her way through just before they put the paddles to his chest.

“Let her through!” Snow shouts.

Emma wastes no time with romantic gestures, she is a get to the point, no-nonsense kick-ass princess anyway. And Killian loves her for it. So she just straddles him in the hospital bed, grabs his face, and kisses him. A rainbow of light pulses outward from where their lips meet, washing over everything in its multi-colored glow. Emma gasps in relief when Killian’s eyes fly open and she kisses him again, hard.

“Now will you believe me, you stupid pirate?”

“Believe what, Swan?” he teases her with a crooked grin and an arched eyebrow.

“That I would chose you in any realm, in any time, you idiot!”

Killian laughs against her lips as she kisses him again. “I guess so, now that we’ve _finally_ had a successful true love’s kiss. Third time’s the charm, right? Or is it the fourth?”

Emma rolls her eyes at him, “Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”

And then _he_ kisses her.


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I know I said not to get used to daily chapters, but I also did say this one was half written already. So, here you go! I so love spoiling all of you :)  
> * Poetry is NOT my strength, so forgive Tauriel's pathetic lullaby. Let's just say something is lost in the translation and it sounds better in elvish, lol!

              Only a day after being released from the hospital, Killian is guiding Emma through the forest, their fingers laced together. Emma breaths in the spring air, cooler beneath the trees. She actually feels lighter since their whole ordeal. Not that she wants to go under that particular spell again, thank you very much. But Killian doesn’t seem so hesitant to accept her declarations of love and affection. His jaw clenches less with self-loathing, and his eyes seem to sparkle more. She understands that it isn’t that he doubted the sincerity or depth of her love, it’s just he never thought he deserved her. Emma thinks maybe she _would_ fall under that spell again, after all. Anything to help him see that they are truly meant to be.

              Emma is also glad that she didn’t lose her adorably clueless old-fashioned pirate. She knows it’s silly, but she really worried that his time under the “curse,” even though it wasn’t real, would give him a whole set of cursed memories just like everyone else. And she would miss teaching him how to use modern appliances, miss that adorable look on his face when he failed to understand a pop culture reference, miss his wonder at something else “the magic box” could do, miss his gasp at the end of the second installment of a movie trilogy that everyone else in the world already knew the resolution to. So she was beyond relieved when Killian turned to her the night before while they were watching _The Office_.

              “What’s a George Foreman grill?”

              Emma had thrown her arms around his neck and practically cried as she peppered his face with kisses. (And she eventually explained what a George Foreman grill was, too.)

              “Belle and Henry said this is the place,” Killian tells her now as he comes to a stop in a small clearing.

              “So _now_ will you explain to me about your mom?” Emma asks. “I’m nervous enough about meeting her. I don’t want to walk into this blind. I mean, is she a ghost?”

              Killian shakes his head, lowering his eyes to their joined hands. “No. But neither is she alive. I mean, not really.” He sighs and meets Emma’s eyes, a nervous expression on his face. “My mother’s name is Tauriel, Emma. And she’s . . . an elf.”

              Emma’s jaw drops. “An elf? Like Santa’s workshop elf? Pointy ears elf?”

              Killian chuckles and releases Emma’s hand to nervously scratch behind his ear, “Pointy ears, yes. But she’s more like the elves in those really long movies you and Henry had me watch. The one with the ring?”

              “Oh,” Emma breathes. Now that she thinks of it, the mystery woman _does_ look like someone who has stepped right out of Middle Earth. “So that means . . . you’re an elf?”

              Killian shakes his head, “I’m half elf, what’s called a dunedain. I’m not immortal like an elf, but I do live longer than an ordinary human.”

              Emma blinks rapidly, trying to process everything.

              “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Emma. About my mother. About what I am. Being a dunedain . . . it isn’t something that I really like for people to know. But I should have told you, Emma.”

              “Opening up doesn’t come easily to either of us, Killian, and you’ve got centuries worth of stories to tell,” Emma tilts her head and smiles at him. “At least we’ll never run out of things to talk about.”

              Killian chuckles and ducks his head in that bashful way that Emma loves. She reaches out to thread her fingers through his to pull him close then brushes a kiss against his pink-tinged cheek. As they pull apart, a misty light builds around them, and soon Tauriel is standing there, smiling at them both.

_Not all who wander are lost_

_Some wanderers have loved at great cost_

_But this elvish heart, faithful and true_

_Beats on, my darling, for you_

              Killian clenches his jaw at the sound of the familiar lullaby. She used to sing it to him and Liam when putting them to bed. But that was before. Most of his memories of the song are whispers on the breeze when a ship he was on would make port. His mother could wander to any realm she chose, as long as there were trees nearby. When he was at sea, he was cut off from her completely. She could come into towns and villages for brief moments, and there were times he would catch a glimpse of her there. But only ever a glimpse, like a ghost. Sailors spoke of her. How she was the ghost of a sailor’s widow. Haunting every port, looking for her lost love. Killian never corrected them. Never told anyone the love she sought was a little boy with freckles and sad blue eyes. In Neverland, her haunting lullaby would soothe the lost boys, bringing brief respites from their anguished cries. His crew said she was the ghost of a mother, haunting the island in search of her dead child.

              And now she’s here, standing right before him, and he’s tongue tied, feeling like a boy again.

              Tauriel seems to sense his distress and turns her sparkling green eyes to his Swan. “Emma,” she says in her breathy voice, “I have been wanting to meet you for so long. Thank you for loving my son the way you do.”

              “You almost killed her, _mother_ ,” Killian spits out before Emma can reply, “you almost killed us both.”

              Tauriel shakes her head gently, “I knew she would pass the test, Killian. And you needed to know your heart was safe with Emma. Beyond a doubt. You may only be half elf, but your heart is as steadfast as an elf’s and almost as fragile. I have seen what heartbreak does to you, my darling, I couldn’t bear to see you endure anymore.”

              “ _See. Watch._ That’s all you’ve ever done. From a distance.”

              Tauriel reaches out and cups Killian’s face with her hand. “I had no choice. It is the way of an elf.”

              “There is _always_ a choice. I know father was unfaithful. I know he broke your heart. But what about me? Didn’t you love me, too? Wasn’t I enough?”

              Tears slip down Tauriel’s face. She grasps Killian’s hand in both of hers and kisses it. “Of _course_ you were. That’s why I held on for as long as I did. But then I saw how it was affecting you. And your brother. To watch me waste away like that.”

              Killian’s own eyes fill with unshed tears. “You could have tried harder. We needed you. Both of us. You were the only mother Liam had ever known. And you _knew_ how fickle and faithless father was.”

              “I never thought he would abandon you.”

              “But he did,” Killian whispers, “and we were alone.”

              “I’m sorry, Killian, but I tried. The gods know I tried. Why do you think I followed you through the realms? Even here? Elves are supposed to wander after their lost love. But I didn’t wander, Killian. I searched and fought to watch over _you_.”

              Tauriel embraces Killian then, drawing his head down to rest upon her shoulder. She weeps, calls him her baby, and cups the back of his head. His defenses shatter, and he holds her close, suddenly ashamed of his hook. They only have a moment and then her form becomes difficult to hold onto, and an invisible force is drawing her away. As if she has read his thoughts, she clasps his hook in her hands and squeezes affectionately.

              “I’m proud of you, my son.”

              She relinquishes her hold on him as she begins to shimmer and fade away. A mist envelops her, and as she is drawn away, she sings again.

_Not all who wander are lost_

_Some wanderers have loved at great cost_

_But this elvish heart, faithful and true_

_Beats on, my darling, for you_

              “Killian?” Emma says hesitantly from a few feet away. She had withdrawn earlier to allow him to have this moment with his mother. He turns to her, and she is relieved to see a smile, albeit a sad one, on his face.

              “I’m fine, love,” he tells her, taking a deep breath. “We both said what needed to be said.” He pauses and when he smiles at her again, it is his normal one, punctuated with a wink, “And she got to meet you. Savior, love of my life, and the most bloody brilliant lass in all the realms.”

Emma draws closer to him and lifts her hands to run her fingers through his hair, then trace them over the tips of his ears. “This explains so much.”

              “You mean the ears?” he asks, a bit bashfully.

              “And other things,” she gestures up and down his frame as she continues, “Does this mean you’ll still look like _this_ when I’m 85?”

              “Nonsense, Emma, I’m only half elf. A dunedain. I’ll still age. I’ll just still be devilishly handsome.”

              Emma puts her hands on her hips and huffs as he smirks at her, “That’s not fair! While I meanwhile will be looking like one of the _Golden Girls_.”

              Killian grins as he wraps his arms around her waist. “Well, if you’re half as frisky as those dames in your magic box, I won’t be complaining.”

              Emma tilts her head as she regards him, and when she speaks again Killian can tell there is real concern behind her next teasing question, “And you won’t want to trade me in for someone younger and hotter?”

              “No one will ever be as lovely as you, Swan. And besides, an elvish heart beats in this chest. Ever devoted, ever true.”

              A slight pink tint to Emma’s cheeks show how his words please her. She bites her bottom lip before teasing him again, “So you might waste away on me if I break your heart?”

              “Aye, tis true,” Killian says, sighing dramatically. He tilts his head, gazing at her provocatively beneath his lashes just as he had once in Neverland. But instead of tapping his lips, he taps his chest. “This is a fragile elvish heart, love. You must handle it with care.” He even pops his “t.”

              Emma rolls her eyes, grabs him by his certifiably elvish ears, and kisses him senseless.


End file.
